#but like. it's bad. it's probably worse than you would initially assume from the synopsis

[sl-vega]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪MY FIRST (GENUINE) LOVE

pairing: Otoya Eita x [FEM!] Reader

genre: fluff, oneshot/drabble, partial chat/text fic, crack/comedy (?), mild Otoya character study, school/no bluelock au

synopsis: Otoya and your's date went well, a little too well. 'Cuz now all he can think about is you, your laugh, your smile, your voice, it's driving him crazy. Which results in him patiently awaiting to any and all of your texts. (Or, in which a certain playboy finally falls in love for real)

CW: brief/mild language, implied suggestive content, ooc Otoya (?)

The second Otoya arrived home, he made a bee line directly towards his room, and threw himself onto his bed, the soft mattress enveloping him in it's plush comfort.

Normally whenever Otoya did this, it meant that he went on a less than good date an hour prior that left him exhausted. Usually the girl would've been too clingy, or tried to move too fast, and he usually didn't mind it, but some women just didn't know when enough was enough.

But neither of the reasons were the cause of his need to lie down. The date wasn't bad, it went super well actually. If anything, it went too well.

Earlier, he was on a date with you. The two of you met via Karasu, Otoya noticed that you were waiting for the latter after one of their games, and he had absentmindedly called you cute, not expecting anything to come out of it since his subconscious had already assumed that you and Karasu were an item.

Otoya had already braced himself for some kind of response along the lines of "Yeah she is" or the worse (and more likely) response of "Buzz off, she's taken". What Otoya didn't expect however, was Karasu's nonchalant offer of;

"Why don't I set the two of ya' up?"

And who was he to turn him down? A date with a cute girl where he didn't have to go through hell and back for a quick one-night-stand?

Fuck yeah, you should set us up.

You seemed nice enough from your initial meeting, you had a cute smile, nice voice, and you managed to be impressive enough for Karasu's standards, something that none of his previous flings achieved.

But what stood out the most to him was how genuine you were.

Most of the time when he went out with girls, they were only there for a quick hook up, or on the opposite end of the spectrum, were the completely clueless girls, the kind that legitimately thought that he would stick around in the long run, only to be disappointed by his inevitable infidelity, which usually resulted in a bunch of tears, and a slap, both of which that Otoya would always be on the receiving end of.

You on the other hand, were neither of these types of troublesome women. You clearly weren't using him for a quick night of pleasure, but you weren't in the dark about his previous antics either.

If anything, you knew a little too much about his previous sexual escapades. Probably because of Karasu's big mouth, or maybe he wanted to make sure Eita still had to put effort into his potential relationship with you.

The two of you went out to some semi-fancy restaurant for dinner together. You and Eita had made some small talk, the conversation ventured into deeper, more in depth topics occasionally (not that Otoya minded, but he'd digress), but you seemed to have fun, even though it was pretty surface level.

The date had ended on a nice note, Otoya had called you beautiful, not pretty, or cute, or sexy (or the other usual less than two syllable words he usually dropped on most of his throwaways), he had actually made a point to say it because he really did mean it.

He didn't know why you had left such a good impression on him, why you clearly meant more than some mere plaything that he would've discarded the following morning. Nor does he know why the thought of bringing another girl into his bed other than you makes his heart feel heavy and makes him feel nauseous.

He rolled over in his bed so he was facing the ceiling instead of of having his head stuffed into his plush pillows.

Why was he like this?

Why did you make him feel like this?

He lifted up one of the pillows by his side and brought it to his chest, maybe the soft stuffing would muffle the sound of his racing heartbeat.

Suddenly, his once silent phone buzzes with a notification. He takes a quick break from his sudden crisis of feelings, and quickly snatched his device from his nightstand. It was a message from an unknown number

[UNKNOWN]-(sent 10:52 pm)

hi! otoya right? This is (l/n) btw, karasu just gave me ur number

Eita's eyes widened, part of him felt a pang of jealousy.

So you and Karasu must be pretty close if you were texting him that late to get his number.

Wait, why did he care? His other girlfriends had guy friends before, and it never made him feel jealous like how you and Karasu's relationship did.

God, what's the matter with me?

Before he wasted too much time, he turned his phone back on, to respond to you, while making sure to change your contact name before he forgot.

[L/N <3]-(sent 10:54 pm)

otoya? you there? istg if karasu gave me the wrong number-

[You]-(sent 10:55 pm)

dw karasu wouldn't lie abt smth like that

[L/N <3]-(sent 10:57 pm)

dang, that reply was faster than I thought it would be, ig ur not as much as a red flag as I pegged you as

[You]-(sent 10:59 pm)

stfu, what did karasu say abt me?

[L/N <3]-(sent 11:00 pm)

nothin' I just figured you out on my own, i'm just smart like that >:3

[L/N <3]-(sent 11:01 pm)

'k i'm partially kidding, he warned me a bit abt you, but you're pretty good company, for an f boy at least

[You]-(sent 11:03 pm)

for an f boy? i'm hurt

[L/N <3]-(11:04 pm)

lol jk, I actually had a lot of fun tonight, we should do it again!

[L/N <3]-(sent 11:05 pm)

srry I gtg, ttyl?

Otoya's heart sinks at the realization that your short, yet sweet, conversation had already come to an end. He was already missing the comfort of your words, not they he would ever admit how much your little messages made his heart flutter.

[You]-(sent 11:07 pm)

yeah, gn

[L/N]-(sent 11:08 pm)

wow, dry much? gn, sweet dreams!

He mentally berates himself for his dry response, but a few seconds after, he starts grinning like some lovesick school girl.

Is this how some of his past flings felt about him?

No, he wanted you to be way more than a fling, maybe this would be the first time he tried, the first time he actually wanted to get serious about a girl, about a relationship.

Maybe this would be the first time that this would end with a ring around his finger rather than a slap on his face.

He hears his phone buzz again, he lunges towards it, hoping that it was another text from you.

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:19 pm)

i'm assuming the date went well since l/n hasn't told me that ur such a jerk yet

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:20 pm)

jk (kinda) i'm glad that you might finally have a shot at a real relationship

[You]-(sent 11:22 pm)

stfu you stupid crow

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:23 pm)

ilyt eita :3

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:27 pm)

cmon, no thanks for setting you up with your future wife?

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:28 pm)

i expect to be your best man at the wedding

[You]-(sent 11:30 pm)

nah i'll give it to yuki if you kept pestering me abt this

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:31 pm)

THAT'S NOT A NO TO THE WEDDING THO

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:33 pm)

GOTTEM

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:34 pm)

SO YOU DO LIKE HER

[You]-(sent 11:35 pm)

maybe I do, maybe I don't

Eita briefly set his phone down, thanking the gods that Karasu couldn't see his bright red face.

He definitely did...

[exeggcute]

I saw dear evan hansen a week or two ago and like... it was really bad and disrespectful and frankly just in poor taste. and the songs were pretty bland and the production value was mediocre. (yet somehow it won SIX tony awards and anastasia won zero. okay.) it was literally john green but for theater kids. if you don't know the plot, you can find a synopsis on wikipedia, but the gist of it is that one high schooler (connor, who is a Loner Problem Child who Smokes Weed) kills himself, and another high schooler (evan, who is Socially Awkward and Has Anxiety) pretends to have been friends with the now-dead connor in order to ease connor's parents' grief. in doing so, evan ends up becoming popular and well-liked, starts a fundraiser in "connor's memory," and ingratiated himself into connor's family and ends up dating his sister. the whole thing gets taken way too far, as expected, but there are very few consequences for evan's lying other than the occasional self-reflection of "oops, this is bad! I'm in too deep! but I have Social Anxiety and therefore I'm not really responsible for my actions" and the eventual slap on the wrist he gets when the facade comes crashing down. the show as a whole does very little to even attempt to condemn his behavior and there's sort of a wishy-washy "the ends justify the means" air to the whole thing.

there's a lot of stuff I could get into--the toxic faux-family dynamic where connor's parents end up adopting connor as a better replacement of their deadbeat dead son (which the narrative does very little to acknowledge as a bad thing in any way), the trope-typical "shy protagonist boy who feels a vague sense of entitlement/'love' towards this girl he doesn't know, so naturally they end up together as an organic progression of events" (compounded by the fact that evan gets close to this girl by pretending to be a friend of her dead brother. they kiss on her dead brother's bed. like...), the fact that evan's whole charity in connor's memory is founded entirely on lies and is a fundraiser for a cause that has nothing to do with connor (they raise money for an orchard, because evan likes orchards and therefore pretends that connor also liked orchards). we as the audience are basically expected to sympathize with evan, even when (or if) we know what he's doing is "wrong." there's very little exploration of how or why this is "wrong" other than a general sense of "lying is bad." (I could also go on about how the stage production is set up in such a way that social media and giant digital screens form a major component of the set, but the play itself makes basically no attempt to explain how or why this matters, instead expecting the audience to do the mental heavy lifting of "social media is like, bad or something.") but my main qualm lies in the absolutely atrocious treatment of suicide, suicide prevention, and mental illness in general.

connor's suicide is reduced to a plot point. he kills himself unceremoniously within the first twenty minutes of the first act. not once throughout the entire play does anyone wonder why connor killed himself--certainly not evan, who, despite crafting an elaborate fictional account of connor's life and inner world, makes no attempt to actually sympathize with the real actual connor or even slightly question what his real motives or personality were like. his death is one hundred percent just a means of advancing the plot. both in-universe and from a textual perspective, connor is, to be blunt, better off dead than alive. this is obviously a really great message to send in an anti-suicide musical, that your death will just be a catalyst for other, more important events and your own personhood is largely irrelevant. connor is by far the most interesting character in the show, and the show kills him almost immediately. (I will say that they make no mention of the method he uses, which is actually a good thing overall, especially given the show's teen audience and the nature of copycat suicides, but I doubt that it was a deliberate choice to be "tasteful" or anything instead of just a complete lack of attention given to connor's character, so I'm not going to give them a brownie point for that.) 

for a play supposedly about suicide and mental illness, it makes very few specific references to any of these things. evan has a therapist who is mentioned, but we never see or hear anything about them--having an on-stage session with the therapist would be tremendously interesting, in my opinion, but the opportunity is missed. evan talks vaguely about some corny journaling exercises that are basically just CBT lite but there's no explanation as to why he does this thing. evan's mom makes an oblique reference to evan's vaguely-defined "pills," to which evan says that he stopped taking them because he's "doing better" now that he's finally Cool and Popular. (this is played straight as a good thing on evan's behalf. no reference to the fact that like, not only are you supposed to taper off meds when you stop taking them, but also that you're supposed to keep taking meds when you're doing well because that means they're actually working. plus the general baggage of associating "going off your meds" with "finally being cured and totally fine now," but I digress.) 

mental illness is barely discussed as a contributing factor towards connor's death (to the extent that connor's death is examined in any capacity, which is none). dear evan hansen treats suicide as a result of simply "feeling like you don't belong" and not a culmination of so many cultural, social, and biochemical factors. nor does it ever really define what it means to "belong" bedsides a vague sense of "being popular and everyone likes you." (not to mention that, while connor is portrayed as being vaguely antagonistic towards evan and making evan seem like a defenseless victim of bullying, evan's friend actively taunts connor for no reason and tells connor that he "looks like a school shooter," and we as the audience are meant to find this funny, presumably. yet after connor's death there's no sense that his social ostracization or the failure to address his negative behavior might have contributed to his suicide, just that "oh if he knew how much we all cared, he certainly would still be alive!" because obviously, everyone cared about him, from his classmates who make fun of him to his parents who make no attempt to understand why their son acts out or has behavioral issues.)

the overall tone of the musical is either nauseatingly upbeat or gratuitously twee and sad. the "sad" parts are sort of a torture porn that demand to be seen as So So Sad instead of actually making any emotional impact that could be seen as sad. it reminds me of when the fault in our stars came out and everyone bragged about how much the book made them cry, as if being Emotionally Impacted by the (mediocre) story somehow made you more virtuous than your dry-eyed peers. the whole thing is so fucking self-congratulatory and a way of acting like you care about social issues without doing anything impactful (or in this case, supporting something that is actually actively harmful). 

dear evan hansen is actually a very good social commentary on the way social circles and the media at large (both in terms of news reporting and popular culture) treat issues of mental illness and suicide, but this commentary is completely unintentional and metatextual. it's not that it's an actual good critique of these issues, it's that the play is SO BAD that it serves of an example of these harmful phenomena. ironically, several characters within the play as treated as examples of people who are over-the-top in their supposed interest in these things (one girl who has never even met connor makes a show out of mourning him to the point that she pulls a muscle in her chest from crying so hard), but this is more of a comedic element than social commentary. both the audience and the characters turn connor's death into a chance to make a spectacle of their own support and grief rather than to offer forth any sympathy or support for him. when the charity in connor's honor goes viral online and we see shots of people making signs with hashtags to show their "devotion to the cause" (a cause which, to remind you, has nothing to do with connor's actual interests), this is supposed to be immensely touching rather than something between horrifying and laughable. at one point, the letter that evan pretends is connor's suicide note (but was actually a CBT journalist exercise written by evan himself) goes viral. A TEENAGE BOY'S (FAKE) SUICIDE NOTE GOES VIRAL, AND WE AS THE AUDIENCE SEE A BUNCH OF PEOPLE HOLDING SIGNS WITH HASHTAGS ON THEM, AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE TOUCHING INSTEAD OF, LIKE, THE WORLD'S CRAPPIEST GALLOWS HUMOR. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW ANYONE, ANYWHERE, COULD SEE THIS AND THINK THIS IS AT ALL ~DEEP~ OR EVEN LIKE, REMOTELY TASTEFUL.

it's bad. the songs sucked. if you want a musical about social issues among high schoolers,fucking mean girls (of all things) is a genuinely more moving and subtle social commentary, plus the soundtrack and production value are actually good.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[lostinthewiind]

𝓙𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓙𝓸𝓴𝓮

Bokuto Kōtarō - Haikyuu

Synopsis: when your best friend, Bokuto, asks you out in front of his entire volleyball team, you’re sure that he’s just joking around and play it off as such. What you don’t know, however, is that he is completely serious.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Glancing down at the time on your phone screen, you sighed softly and picked up the pace a little, moving as quickly as possible through the halls of Fukurodani without breaking into a full-out run. You were supposed to have met Bokuto at the gym doors to walk home together about twenty minutes ago but your own club meeting had run late and there was nothing you could really do about it.

Normally, this wouldn’t be much of an issue, but you knew Bokuto far too well and knew that being late and not having the time to text him would probably send him into a downward spiral. He was probably already complaining that you had completely forgotten about him and found a new best friend or something. Yes, he was that dramatic.

When you finally reached the gym doors the two of you usually met at, you were surprised to see that he wasn’t sitting in front of it sulking. In fact, he wasn’t there at all. There was no Bokuto in sight.

Assuming that his practice was running late as well, you simply slid open the gym doors as quietly as possible, so as to not disturb anything if the practice was still going on, and peeked your head inside. What you saw, however, was not volleyball practice. 

Standing in the middle of the gym, the entire volleyball team was gathered around Bokuto and whispering. 

Suddenly feeling as though you had interrupted something much more important than volleyball practice, you moved to close the door again and wait outside quietly for whatever was going on to end. Before you could leave unnoticed, however, Bokuto’s wide eyes locked onto you over his teammates’ shoulders and a characteristic grin spread across his face. 

“Y/N!” he shouted and gave an exaggerated wave, bringing a halt to the whispering all at once as everyone turned to face you.

Stopping in your tracks, you waved back sheepishly. “Sorry to interrupt. My club ran a little longer than I thought,” you said. “I’ll just wait outside for you.”

“No, don’t go!” Bokuto snapped rather abruptly, his tone a little more demanding than he had originally intended. All of a sudden, the tone in the gymnasium flipped like a switch. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was, exactly, but something was definitely going on. 

Akaashi’s eyes flitted from you to Bokuto and then back at you again. Soon, everyone on the team was glancing between you and the tall, owl-eyed man. 

“Did the volleyball team turn into a cult overnight?” You chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “Am I the chosen sacrifice?”

When no one answered, you turned to Bokuto, whose smile was slowly faltering. He was fidgeting with his hands at his sides and his gaze kept breaking from you to look at the ground. That was the tipping point for you to realize that something truly was going on. Bokuto was never this weird around you. 

“Okay, out with it.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “What’s wrong?”

Bokuto continued to remain silent, cautiously turning back to look at his teammates, who were all nodding at him encouragingly. 

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Akaashi shoved him forward forcefully. “Will you get on with it already so we can all go home?”

Feeling a tingle of nerves work its way up your spine, you straightened up and swallowed hard. “I was kidding about the cult thing earlier . . . but now I’m actually getting worried. Bokuto, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Y/N . . . I . . .” Bokuto stumbled over his words and it was easy to sense the gears working overtime in his head. Eventually, it seemed as though a wave of confidence washed over him and he looked you dead in the eyes. “Y/N, would you like to go out with me?”

The gym had never been so quiet. All eyes were on you, waiting impatiently for you to respond. 

You felt your heart pound harshly against your ribcage and knew that you had to say something soon in case the thumping got louder and the boys were able to hear it. A thin layer of sweat spread across your palms and your mouth hung open slightly.

Was this really happening right now? Was your best friend—and the man you had secretly harboured a crush on for the past year—really asking you out? 

No, there was no possible way this was real. You had been lucky enough to get Bokuto to be friends with you at all in the first place and you had decided a long time ago that that was all you were ever going to get. You were happy with that. There was no way Bokuto actually wanted to go out with you. 

This had to be a joke.

Looking at the faces of his teammates, who were still waiting for you to say something, you fabricated the amused glint in their eyes and decided on the spot that this entire thing was some elaborate prank on you. They were all in on it. 

Slowly, you let out a gentle laugh, trying your best not to make it sound nervous but instead, entertained. “You almost got me.” You forced a smile. “That’s a good one, Bokuto, but you should know that your pranks never get past me.”

Bokuto’s hopeful smile faltered for half a second before he too started laughing. “Yeah, haha, you caught me.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and averted his gaze. “The guys all helped me plan it but it wasn’t good enough to trick you, apparently.” He turned to his friends. “Right, guys?”

After a second of confused and stunned silence, the team started nodding and agreeing. “We’ll just have to try harder next time.” The annoyed expression had left Akaashi’s face, only to be replaced with sympathy for his friend who had just gotten shut down in one of the worst ways possible. 

The idea of going out with Bokuto was so humerous to you that you had immediately assumed the entire thing had been a joke. Harsh.

“Well, I’ll wait for you outside.” You turned back toward the door. “Don’t take too long. It’ll be dark soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” Bokuto nodded.

As soon as you had stepped outside and closed behind you, you exhaled sharply. The cool breeze on your warm skin was a welcomed feeling and you closed your eyes. Crisis averted. How embarrassing it would have been for you to fall for something so childish.

Willing your pounding heart and nerves to steady, you drew in deep breaths while you waited for your best friend. A part of you wanted to high-tail it back home without him and avoid the awkwardness that was sure to come, but you knew that delaying the initial confrontation after the incident would only make things worse in the long run.

The best thing to do would be to laugh about it together and move on.

Five minutes later, Bokuto emerged from the gym and you fell into pace beside him, the two of you following the path you took home every day—a path you could no doubt walk with your eyes closed at this point, which was exactly what you wanted to do. There was no laughing happening and the last thing you wanted to do was look up into those bright golden eyes beside you and have to face the emotions waiting there.

Halfway through the slow and silent walk, you couldn’t ignore the fact that something was obviously bothering Bokuto. No matter how exhausted or how bad his day had ever been, he always had something to talk your ear off about. The exuberant Fukurodani ace was known for many things, but being reserved and quiet was not one of them.

Then it hit you like a brick wall. He hadn’t been joking at all when he had asked you out. Somehow, he felt the same way about you that you felt about him and you had shut him down, too afraid to look stupid in front of his friends.

Too afraid to confront your true feelings out in the open where everyone could see.

When your footfalls stopped from beside him and you were no longer at his side, Bokuto turned around to face you. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, you voiced what was on your mind.

“You weren’t kidding, were you?”

Bokuto’s eyes softened and his shoulders slumped. “No.”

Anger and sadness overwhelmed you all at once and you slapped your hands over your face to hide the slurry of emotions. “I’m such an idiot!”

“You’re not an idiot.” Bokuto was immediately in front of you, prying your hands away from your face and forcing you to look up at him. “You just don’t feel the same way that I do. That’s okay. We can still be friends.”

“But that’s the thing!” you exclaimed. “I do feel the same way!”

Bokuto’s wide eyes grew even wider and his jaw dropped. “You . . . what?!”

“I thought it was so impossible that you liked me like that that I convinced myself you must have been joking,” you told him. “That’s why I’m an idiot.”

“Why would it be so impossible?”

You let out an exasperated chuckled. “Because you’re you—the larger-than-life ace of Fukurodani who everyone adores—and I’m . . . me. I thought I was pretty lucky to even get to be friends with you in the first place so I had completely written off ever being anything more.”

“You’re right. You are an idiot.” Bokuto grinned wide, proving that there was no malice whatsoever in his words. “Of course I like you! You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You being you is exactly why I like you.”

Balling up your fists at your sides, you huffed. “Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?! I’ve been pining for you for a whole year, Bokuto!”

“A whole year?” Bokuto’s eyes lit up brighter than the night stars. Before you knew what was happening, he was scooping you up into his arms and crushing you into a hug. “You mean to tell me we could have been together for a whole year at this point? We’ve missed out on so much!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, like what?”

“Like this.” He gently pressed his lips to yours, continuing to hold you tightly in his arms. “We could have been doing that for a whole year.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips curled into a blissful smile. “Well, then I guess we’ve got some catching up to do.” With that, you pulled him close and kissed him once more . . . well, maybe more than just once.

[fullsuuns]

true blue | n.jm

pairing: jaemin x fem. reader

genre: angst, fluff

wordcount: 6.4k

tags: camphalfblood!au, forbiddenlove!au, demigod!jaemin, mermaid!reader, jaemin is son of poseidon in this, it’s also told in jaemin’s pov

warnings: none

synopsis: in which na jaemin finds out he’s more gifted than he initially thought and also takes the risk of falling in love with a mermaid.

song rec♫: neptune - sleeping at last (highly rec this song as it alone inspired this entire fic)

na jaemin had always been a lover of water.

growing up in busan, he always felt inexplicably drawn to the ocean. be it the way the water always felt refreshing to the touch and would instantly clear his head, or how the tadpoles would dance around his toes when he dipped his feet in, he didn’t know. all he did know was that he adored it.

maybe it had been the initial reason he’d joined his highschool’s swim team during his senior year. something about diving straight into water and moving his body in a way that almost felt like second nature to him. getting praised for doing so was just another factor in what drove him to spend more time at the school’s pool than, quite literally, anywhere else. though in his last year, jaemin quickly became a commended athlete for his extraordinary talent.

what other people didn’t know, especially his classmates and his coach, is that na jaemin could do something with water — something that he was sure other people couldn’t. at first, jaemin told himself it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; that making the water ripple beneath him without even pressing his palm to the surface wasn’t odd.

except it was — that was what he soon realized.

of course, making water move didn’t seem like a big deal; jaemin would reassure himself that it was most likely due to the pressure coming from the pool’s installed filtering jets. everything seemed fine as jaemin dove into the body of water. he hadn’t noticed the pretty bad scrape on his arm, either — and from what? he didn’t even know.

when jaemin had surfaced, his eyes caught the slight discoloration to his submerged skin almost immediately. he brought his arm up and out, water sloshing around him as his eyes inspected the scrape. the wound looked pretty gruesome under the white light, the harsh lighting of the natatorium almost making it appear worse than it probably was.

he was about to just let it be, swim a few more laps — at least that was the plan until he saw water creep its way up his arm. several streams ran over the wound, collectively healing and sealing the scrape up. now in its place was nothing but unblemished skin, as if nothing had ever happened.

jaemin was shocked. his mouth had hung wide open, eyes almost bulging out of his skull as they drank in his now seemingly perfect forearm. he was quick to dart his eyes for his surroundings, hoping no one had witnessed what exactly had just happened. there were various students, all a part of the water polo team, but they were all too busy with setting up equipment to notice jaemin’s situation. he was thankful.

he swam to the edge of the pool after that. he pushed himself up, gushes of water splashing around him as he exited. jaemin power-walked to the locker room, wishing that whatever he’d seen was just a figment of his imagination and that it never actually occurred. he didn’t spare his arm another glance for confirmation, choosing to ignore the incident for his own sanity.

nothing intense had happened since that day, and jaemin had graduated from highschool peacefully. of course, the swim team’s ace had been scouted by big universities, but jaemin had already been set on dropping swim after the pool incident, so he politely turned each one down. (each agent had looked at him incredulously, but jaemin just smiled humbly, thanking them before parting ways.)

the summer after his senior year of highschool had been pretty boring. several hours into the night for various nights in a row, jaemin played call of duty with his friends donghyuck and jongho. he was sure that he even developed eyebags, but ignored the mirror every time he stepped into the bathroom. cold showers always fueled to restore his energy almost completely, keeping him going despite donghyuck’s whines that they didn’t do anything. jaemin would tease that the brunet simply just wasn’t as cool as him.

one day, jaemin had decided to pick up the mail that arrived at his mother’s house just so that she didn’t have to. he was surprised to see a handwritten letter addressed to him, even going as far as having a wax seal on the back. jaemin had dropped the rest of the mail pile onto the kitchen table instead, focused on prying the single envelope with the hard-to-budge seal open.

the letter wasn’t anything fancy, really, but it hadn’t been written in korean. initially, it was written in a language jaemin couldn’t decipher — or at least that’s what he thought until the characters started to float and move around right before his eyes. out of shock, jaemin dropped the letter and envelope to the floor. he’d squeezed his eyes shut, spewing mantras of it’s just the redbull, it’s just the redbull.

jaemin eyed it for a while, the crinkled cream paper unmoving in all its glory. his mother still hadn’t gotten back from work, so it was just him in their house. still, jaemin refused to pick up the letter for five more minutes.

he should’ve known that that had been the start of it all; that it’d be the inevitable start of na jaemin finding out he had magical blood running through his veins.

he simply ridiculed the idea, ridiculed the letter in its entirety until his mother had gotten home that one fateful day only two weeks ago. she’d told him that it was all true — about how jaemin was a descendant of the all-mighty poseidon, god of the seas, and that he was a lot more gifted than he thought possible.

he wanted to cry, laugh, maybe even scream, because he desperately wanted to be told it was a joke. still, the memory of his mother only looking at him with serious, unplayful eyes bore itself into his mind. in that moment, fourteen days ago, jaemin knew that it was true — knew that that was the reasoning behind why he was always different.

na jaemin didn’t want to believe it. he still wanted to be in unnerving denial, even as his mother drove him to what she said was the boundary line that connected the human world to the gifted world. even when their car had stopped at a clearing and she had exited the vehicle, she still motioned jaemin’s figure out.

“i can’t go beyond here, jaemin. you have to go on your own.” she told him when he finally stepped up to her.

“but why?” he asked. jaemin didn’t want to admit it, but his heart was beating sporadically beneath his chest at the thought of having to do this alone.

“i’m not like you, jaemin. you must go on your own and figure out your destiny.”

she’d given him a hug, promising she’d call him. jaemin wanted so badly for her to tell him this wasn’t what was actually happening, that it was some planned-out prank that would land them both on television and get them thousands of dollars, but he knew it wasn’t in his mother’s nature to pull something like this.

as he stepped deeper into the forest with backpack on his shoulders, jaemin looked back to see his mother wave at him. he waved back, a wistful look crossing his features momentarily as he stared at her. with a newfound sense of bravery, and one last look at the woman who raised him for twenty years of his life, jaemin turned back around and ventured farther into the forest, leaves crunching beneath his boots as he searched for whatever it was exactly that awaited him.

jaemin was surprised, shocked, flabbergasted to see that whatever his mother had told him about actually turned out to be true. forty minutes into his walk, and with the sun threatening to set, jaemin reached a clearing.

it greets him in the form of tall, wooden trunks that are formed to create a singular entrance. above it, greek lettering rearranges itself into korean before jaemin’s eyes (just like they had on the letter), and soon, camp halfblood is sprawled over the wood.

he didn’t know exactly what to do from then on. jaemin heard a yell being shouted from inside the open territory, and someone was quick to jog up to him.

“new comer?” the person asked. he looked to be around his age: black hair, youthful brown eyes, and a similar build to jaemin.

he nodded, albeit a little cautiously.

“i’m jeno,” the raven said, grinning, “son of ares, god of war.”

“i’m jaemin.” he greeted. “son of poseidon, i think? at least that’s what i was told.”

jeno’s eyes widened, marveling at him. “no way, poseidon?”

jaemin only nodded again, more confident this time.

safe to say, it took jaemin a while to get used to his new life. word of the one and only poseidon’s son was quick to spread around the camp — or at least that’s what he assumed, because only two days had passed before he’d found out everyone knew of him.

with jeno teaching him battle techniques and all about camp life, jaemin grew grateful at the chance to be given a friend in his new life. of course, there were still times that he missed his old ones.

(he’d told donghyuck and his other closest friends that he’d be away on an internship in the united states for some time, and that his cellphone service wouldn’t allow for international calls or texts. it was a lie, but it seemed believable enough that they didn’t question him.)

jaemin was lucky to reach his mother on the phone the night he’d first arrived at the place two weeks ago. he informed her that he’d gotten to camp safely, that he’d even met a new friend, and she’d been relieved. his mother told him to stay safe and to call her more often, to which he agreed he would do.

more time passed, and jaemin had met more friends: renjun, son of athena, chenle, son of hermes, and jisung, son of demeter. they were all nice boys, despite their initial gawking at finding out that jaemin was a direct descendant from poseidon himself. although the shock was there at first, they were quick to dismiss it in favor of treating him normally — or as normally as demigods could treat eachother — and jaemin was grateful for it.

he’d even gotten his own cabin — a gift from his father — chiron, head of camp, told him. it was a grand cabin constructed close to the edge of camp, away from any and all others (jaemin was happy to learn that) as it overlooked the vast ocean it connected to. over time, jaemin grew to love visiting his dock in favor of clearing his head. the water around him felt like home, and it still served to calm him and keep him peaceful when he was conflicted.

jaemin would visit the dock several times a week just to get a sense of grounding. there were times he would play with the water beneath him, ghosting his palms over the surface to practice creating ripples. the fish that swam under the water were always spooked.

it’d been two months later that something truly happened, something that he never expected to see — or, well, hear.

jaemin thought it would be just another ordinary thursday, except that idea changed when he heard faint groans of pain from behind the giant boulder to his right.

he knew that the rock was beyond the boundary line that separated the camp from the outside world, but jaemin always pinged himself as the curious type. he was quick to round the rock, wanting to figure out what exactly had been making noise.

he didn’t know what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect to see you laying a ways away from the ocean, tear streaks on your face as you distinctly cried out in pain.

jaemin was quick to rush over.

“oh my god, are you okay?” he asked, panic in his voice as he knelt down next to you.

your tail shimmered under the sunlight, and jaemin was sure he knew what you were. he’d read about creatures like you all his life. he thought mermaids would just be folklore, imaginary. he didn’t believe them to be real at first, but jaemin had also found out he was a demigod so he wasn’t exactly sure about what was real or not anymore.

you definitely seem to be real, at least that’s what jaemin thought to himself.

he was refocused by the time he heard a whimper escape your lips, fear evident in your eyes as you tried to shimmy away from him. with your attempts being fruitless, jaemin’s heart ached momentarily when you lifted your tail only to wail in agony.

“it’s okay,” he assured. jaemin brought his hands forward to show you that he hadn’t been holding a weapon. “i won’t hurt you. what’s wrong? i want to help you.”

you bite your lip. your voice is quiet, yet almost melodical to him when you speak. “my tail. it’s my tail. i can’t - i can’t move. it hurts too much.”

jaemin looked down to see what you were talking about. sure enough, he saw several gashes lining the ends of your tail, some chunks to your fin even ripped off.

his eyebrows knit in sorrow, worry. “who would do this to you?”

he didn’t expect a response, it’d been more of a rhetorical question that he’d wondered to himself. still, he heard your quiet answer. “fishers.”

jaemin looked back at you, smiling in hopes that it could be enough to soothe you down a bit. he didn’t miss the way your irises still held traces of caution and fear, but he was quick to reassure you.

“don’t worry, just let me do something real quick. i promise you’re safe, i won’t even touch you. just let me help. can i help you?”

he waited for you to nod, for you to give him permission to help you. hesitantly, you did so.

you were still a close enough distance to the ocean that the water came alive at jaemin’s command when he held his hand out. he looked to you for any sign of discomfort, letting his tensed shoulders go lax when he only found twinkles of surprise and curiosity in your eyes. jaemin didn’t let the water get swallowed by the sand as it trailed up to you. he directed his palm towards your tail, the water running over the broken fin of your tail.

what happened next made you gasp and jaemin grin. the water was slowly beginning to mend your tail, restoring the previously broken off ends with new, healthier ones out of thin air. by the time your tail was repaired, and you had flapped it experimentally, you cried out in happiness.

“no way! no way, my tail!” you give it another flick, just for good measure. “it’s back!”

jaemin saw the grin on your face, saw the way your eyes shone so brightly, and he had to admit that it served to bring a smile to his lips.

that had been jaemin’s first encounter with you.

two weeks had passed.

jaemin was sure he’d never see you again after that, telling himself you’d most likely never come back a second time. he didn’t tell anyone of his encounter with you; hadn’t mentioned anything about mermaids to anyone. still, two weeks passed and he couldn’t get you out of his head, because simply to him, you were the kind of ethereal beauty beyond those descended from the aphrodite herself.

he’d been seated at his cabin’s dock again. the water was calm, nothing but the faint chitter-chatter from camp the only sound that could be heard. in his silence, jaemin constantly found himself wondering if you would ever come back, if he’d ever cross paths with you again as he dug into his pocket for a stray coin. he threw it into the ocean, watching it leap for several seconds before sinking below the surface.

he let out a sigh.

“maybe something like that was too good to be true,” jaemin spoke to himself. “silly me.”

except, jaemin was quick to turn his head when he felt something hit his bicep. looking down, he saw that what he’d been hit with was a singular pebble — round and smooth and definitely hand-picked. he chose to ignore it, telling himself it could’ve just been a coincidence. then he felt another hard collision to his arm.

he turned faster this time, eyes fleeting as they scoured for location of the source. the top of a head behind a boulder caught his gaze. it disappeared almost instantly, but jaemin knew he saw it. a tiny spark of hopefulness was quick to rise within him when he realized that that had been the rock he’d previously seen you behind.

jaemin got up to his feet, grabbing the small yet striking pebble in his hand. he’d looked over his shoulder, made sure no one saw him crossing over the boundary before he made his way over to the boulder.

jaemin reached the top of the rock soon enough, sitting down as he waited for you to come out. he’d purposely tip-toed so as to not let alert you that he was approaching, and it’d worked as he heard a shriek from you once you made another appearance. the surprise of it had you falling back into the water, in turn making jaemin both laugh and clap his hands in amusement.

he grinned teasingly at you, holding up the pebble next to him. though he wasn’t happy about you throwing stones at him, he was ecstatic to learn that you came back. “is there a reason you’re throwing rocks at me?”

jaemin watched you emerge from the ocean in all of your radiance. he took note that from under the clear water, your tail was fine now, no longer needing care. he also took note that your hair was still pretty despite it being stuck to your wet body, and that you had a mesh bag tied to your wrist.

“yes, actually,” you answered, laughing. your eyelashes fluttered extra prettily against your cheeks when you brought the bag up to him, and jaemin was completely enraptured. “i want to thank you for helping me.”

“you don’t have to thank me,” jaemin said. “but i’d love to know your name.”

“y/n,” oh how beautiful your voice was to him. “and you, my savior?”

a smile prodded at jaemin’s lips. “y/n,” he echoed, testing your name on his tongue. he loved it. “i’m jaemin, na jaemin.”

“jaemin,” you had repeated with a giggle, swishing the bag around in your hands. it was so, so easy for him to be intrigued by you. “i’ve brought you seashells as a gift.”

his heart had fluttered when you placed the mesh bag of trinkets into his palms, various seashells moving around in his grip. the bag was wet. droplets poured down onto jaemin’s jeans, but he found that he didn’t mind. not when you gave him a bright, beautiful grin that had his breath hitching.

that was his second encounter with you.

it wasn’t long before jaemin really, truly started to fall for you. every friday, he’d meet you at the same rock just outside of the boundary line after duties at 3p.m — or, well, when the ocean’s current direction shifted for you (he came to figure out that mermaids simply didn’t calculate time). still, these were the days he awaited most.

he’d share stories upon stories with you about both his camp life and human life. he grew fond of how you attentively drank up every detail from every story he shared with wide, beautiful eyes. you, too, shared counts of your life at sea, though they were more dark if anything.

jaemin’s eyebrows furrowed when he heard of how your kind was hunted, sought after for your fins. you’d told him about how they were magical in the sense that they were able to heal the weak and restore them back to full health. jaemin now understood why you had been so scared the first time he saw you. though he smiled at you reassuringly, his heart broke beneath the surface.

jaemin had grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers together with a whispered promise. “i’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

no one knew of jaemin sneaking out beyond campgrounds to meet you. no one even knew that he was sneaking out in the first place until two months in.

jaemin was careful enough to not let anyone see you, always hiding you away from the direct line of sight from camp just had something go wrong.

nothing ever did, at least until that one friday.

he’d been perched at his usual spot on the boulder, sitting cross-legged with you in front of him, your top half emerged enough from the water so that he could place his lips on yours. there was nothing but the ocean and the forest around you, a calm serene setting for when he would kiss you under the shade of the giant camp tree.

jaemin held your hand out, your palm facing towards the sky. you’d giggled, asking him what he was doing, to which he only shushed you with another kiss to your lips. he had to pull away when you placed your free hand on his cheek, deepening it ever so slightly.

“sneaky sneaky.” jaemin tsk’d.

you hummed, tongue darting out across your lips. “nice chapstick. is that cherry?”

“yes it is,” he answered. “now hush, i’m trying to show you something.”

he returned to drawing a figure on your skin, connecting your palm to his right after. your eyes glimmered as you watched in awe, eyes trained on the watered silhouette of a seahorse that floated between both you and jaemin.

“wow, it’s - wow, jaemin. that’s amazing.”

jaemin’s heart thumped from beneath his chest, as it always did each and every time you smiled at him. you tapped an index finger at the floating water, yelping when some of it ran down your arm and back into the ocean. you were shocked at first, but quick to let out a sweet laugh right after. jaemin was happy to see you happy. jaemin was happy that he could make you happy.

maybe he’d been too caught up in you — too caught up in the melodical beauty of your laugh to notice anything unusual. his eyebrows furrowed when he saw your eyes settle on something behind him, the deep pools of your irises growing the same fearful look they had when he first met you, and a panic arose within him. you didn’t say anything as your eyes met his, but you were quick to duck back into the water. jaemin watched you swim away below the ocean with a weak and confused heart.

that’s when he heard it.

the faint, distant call of a camper.

jaemin visibly tensed, his jaw hardening and back straightening at the intrusion. the water that he’d controlled, now fallen, served to create a damp spot on the rock. his eyes scoured the ocean, but he saw no trace of you anywhere. he’d hoped that whoever was calling for him didn’t actually see you.

with a heavy sigh, he turned around to face the random camper — someone he’d never even seen before. still, jaemin tried to muster the best fakest smile that he could account for, even when his blood simmered. the intruder only looked at him warily before turning away, scurrying back to camp.

he was now left alone with nothing but the ocean around him. the sun had almost set, glow peaking just enough from behind the mountains, and that’s when jaemin realized just how fast time would pass when he was with you. sometimes, there were fridays where he would return to camp after darkness had grown, after spending hours talking to you about nothing and everything all at once, but he never once regretted one of those days.

a few days later, jaemin thinks word got out to chiron that he’d been sneaking past the boundary line, because soon he gets summoned into the centaur’s office for what he presumes is that very reason. the place smells of smoke upon his arrival, and the cabin has a surplus of antiques from olympus that decorate the interior. it’s nowhere near as elegantly built as his own cabin; jaemin thought this as he watched the crackling fire from the fireplace. he pushed that down when his wandering thoughts were interrupted by the rough clear of a throat.

chiron is stoic with his gaze, but jaemin is unphased. if he was really here for what he thought he was here for, he didn’t care.

“i hear you’ve been sneaking out of camp.” ah, so jaemin’s assumptions were proven correct. there was a disapproving lilt in the centaur’s tone that made jaemin almost flinch. “to converse with a mermaid?”

jaemin knew he couldn’t lie to weasel himself out of this situation — it simply wouldn’t do him any good when everyone already knew anyway. he’d had the feeling that the camper he’d seen would tell someone as soon as he returned back to camp, but jaemin didn’t care in that moment. he’d been too caught up in feeling distraught over your untimely goodbye to think about the probability of his secret getting out.

he just sighed. “yes, i have.”

except chiron already knew.

“do you know the danger that outside creatures could impose on our kind?” he berated. “that boundary is put in place to keep us safe, keep us away from the danger that the outside world brings. i will not have you stepping outside of that field again - for a pesky mermaid much less.”

jaemin felt his blood boil at the words, at the way the centaur spoke of you so unnervingly. his hackles raised in defense, eyes unsparing as he spoke with a tone full of venom. “do you know who i am?”

chiron must have been taken aback, because surely he hadn’t expected jaemin to challenge him so outwardly.

jaemin continued. “i’m son of poseidon, god of the seas, and unless you want this entire place flooded by the ocean’s water, you’re going to leave me alone, and you’re going to leave her alone. i can handle things on my own.”

he didn’t spare the centaur another word nor did he allow him to respond. instead, jaemin rose from the desk he’d been leaning on, storming out of the cabin and halfway across camp towards his own.

jaemin meant it when he said he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you again. he loved you too much to let anything bad happen to you.

the week that followed was too tense. jaemin hadn’t spoken to his friends in a while. he told jeno he needed alone time, needed to think — to which the raven assured him to take as much time as he needed. by then, everyone knew that na jaemin was seemingly in love with a mermaid, as gossip about those descended from the most powerful of gods always spread like wildfire. he didn’t mind it though, maybe that would get aphrodite’s daughters off his back for once.

the next friday was quick to come.

that entire morning, jaemin had buzzed to see you. he’d missed your eyes, your voice, your lips, and positively everything about you that he grew to adore in so little time. he wanted to speak to you again, to make you laugh again, and to get the chance to kiss you again.

he’d arrived at your spot that evening, your favorite flower freshly picked in his hand. he even went as far as to truly making sure no one had followed him this time by coming out earlier than he usually did.

jaemin waited, and waited, and waited. there was no sign of you anywhere; no breathtaking glimmer of your tail under the translucent water as you swam around him, no teasing splash as you coaxed him into getting in with you, and certainly no familiar ripple as you got ready to emerge from under the ocean.

he waited. but you never came.

jaemin realized he’d been sat there for hours when he saw the ever fading sun begin to hide itself behind the mountains. they’re the same hours he would spend with you, but the time that passed now left him sluggish without your vibrant presence.

still, he didn’t move. he refused to until the day turned into night.

hours later, the sun got replaced by the moon — the subsequent result of time that had passed.

jaemin soon gave up. he figured you’d come another day, and it was left at that.

except with every trudging step back to his cabin, his heart ultimately cracked. the now droopy flower in his hand mirrored the sorrow he felt when he placed it on the nightstand next to his bed, a lone petal falling. he’d been ready to see you again, been ready to give it to you (jaemin remembered that vague memory of you telling him of your favorite flower weeks ago, and he wanted to see that familiar sparkle of delight light up your eyes — simply because he adored it too much).

unable to sleep, jaemin laid awake for some time that night, staring up at the wooden ceiling of his cabin. when he did manage to feel sleepy, eyes fatigued, he closed them with one thought plaguing his mind: he didn’t know where you were, but he really, really hoped you were safe.

jaemin didn’t give up.

instead, he opted to visit your same meeting spot every day after he finished daily training, hoping you’d come back to him at some point. at times, he would bring his ipod and play your favorite song — a song you’d told him stuck with you from a passing cruise ship. you sang the lyrics so prettily, and though tranced, jaemin still managed to jot them down on a piece of paper so that he would have it by the next time you two met up.

he grew to miss you more and more with every passing hour he spent by the unmoving water. he found himself missing the way your eyes would crinkle when he cupped your face to press chaste kisses to your lips, and how you would laugh into his mouth each time. jaemin was sure he hadn’t felt this way about another being before, and he told himself he’d rather walk through the gates of hell than let you go like this.

so jaemin waited. patiently.

another two weeks passed, yet he still came back each day.

it’d been two fridays since jaemin had last seen you. time felt still when he sat on the rock, but he found entertainment in watching voyagers travel from a distance. he noted that the clouds were gloomier today, a sort of overcast that almost threatened to storm against his surroundings, but jaemin didn’t pay it much mind other than that. instead, he found serenity in closing his eyes, and favored listening to the sounds of nature around him.

jaemin first felt a splash hit his left hand, but excused it as just a random ocean wave that’d gotten a little too powerful (those weren’t all too uncommon, especially when a rainstorm was near). with his eyes still closed, jaemin breathed deeply, ears twitching only when he heard the faint chirp of birds behind him.

there was another splash a few seconds later, though this time it’d been undoubtedly bigger than the last. jaemin peered one eye open when he felt both of his arms get drenched, the water now drenching his lap.

safe to say, his mouth dropped open in surprise. a soft gasp followed when he saw you floating in front of him, in all of your divine radiance. your hair was soaked, sticking to your body. droplets of accumulated water had decorated your flushed cheeks, your eyelashes wet with saltwater. still, you looked as gorgeous as you always had to jaemin — maybe even more this time.

he didn’t know how to react — didn’t know if you were actually truly in front of him. he’d waited countless hours for you to return back to him, return to your spot, yet he never expected to see you so abruptly like this.

you opened your mouth to speak, but jaemin had beaten you to it.

“y/n?” he asked almost incredulously. “is it - is it really you? are you really here right now?”

you only nodded.

a grin was quick to plaster itself across jaemin’s face, soon falling when he noticed yours didn’t mirror the same excitement. instead, he took in your sad eyes, the familiar spark that would shine beneath your irises no longer visible. he was confused; sadness was something jaemin had never seen from you.

“what’s wrong?”

“jaemin, i -” your voice sounded distressed, breaking before you could even say anything else. jaemin tried to reach out for you, to comfort you, but you pulled away from him in time so that he couldn’t touch your face. hurt panged at his heart instantly, and he was sure the confusion was evident on his face.

you gulped. “we can’t be together, jaemin.”

it took a second for your words to register, but when they had, they felt like a painful punch to his throat, and jaemin’s heart metaphorically plummeted to his feet.

he recoiled, bringing his arms back to his body. many different emotions swim through him all at once, unsure of how to feel exactly. he looked at your face for any signs of bluff, but was only met with sad, unmoving eyes.

“what? y/n, what? why?” his voice cracked, words laced with distress.

he watched your eyes well up with tears, and his heart continued to break. above the both of you, the sky grew darker, a flurry of clouds passing over the sky rapidly quicker than they ever had before.

you cleared your throat. “we can’t be together, jaem. we’re from two different worlds, and i don’t want you to end up hurt because of me. i - i don’t want that. so you have to let me go. you have to. i just want you to know that i love you and i’m so thankful for you, and i’m so, so sorry that i had to do stumble into your life.”

jaemin wanted to reassure you that you were all he ever wanted — all he ever needed as he heard you babble. he opened his mouth to speak, wanting so badly to console you, but was quick to get interrupted by a loud roar of thunder.

water came shortly after. it poured heavily around the two of you as the atmosphere thickened. jaemin felt his hair get damp, his clothes growing heavy with rain, but he was completely unphased by it when he looked at you — looked at who he fell in love with.

he watched you look up to the sky, felt his eyes begin to water.

“i have to go now. zeus knows i’m here, and he’s not happy,” your voice was distraught as another heavy clap sounded through the sky. the sound made you jolt. “i won’t forget the time i spent with you, na jaemin. thank you for - for showing me your world. and telling me your stories. and loving me as i am. i love you, i’ll truly never forget you, but i have to go.”

jaemin wanted to cry in confusion. he didn’t want to say goodbye. he’d waited too long just to see you again.

tears poured down his face rapidly as he shook his head in denial, begging you to not leave. he reached out his hand to your submerging figure, crying out when you retreated back into the water and swam away with nothing but a final glance at him.

jaemin cried for who knows how long, uncaring of the rain as it pelted his body. the usually refreshing feeling of water no longer served the same purpose at calming him. instead, his body wracked with countless sobs — crying because he missed you, crying because he waited so long just to hear your voice, and crying because he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see you again.

all the other times that jaemin didn’t want to leave this spot felt incomparable to how rooted he felt to the rock in that moment. the sun was gone by then, and jaemin had cried his heart out so much in those hours that his eyes turned puffy and his mouth was parched from dehydration. he didn’t move, couldn’t move when he heard a voice call to him. he didn’t budge, even when he felt a firm hand drop to his shoulder.

jeno sat next to him, silently looking out at the ocean. he, too, ignored the pouring rain.

“i’m sorry, jaemin.” he consoled. jaemin was thankful there was some sort of apologetic tone to his words, it was nice to know someone felt sympathy for him. “maybe it was for the best.”

tears were fresh again as they brimmed behind his eyes. he let them fall.

“i loved her - god, i loved her so much.” the words were strained, tension raw in his throat, but he still managed to choke them out.

“i know she loved you too.”

weeks went by at a slow pace, and jaemin wasn’t any better. he’d still sneak out and visit the ocean sometimes, visit your rock, even when he knew you wouldn’t return a second time. he’d speak to the body of water as if you were there, as if you were in front of him once again. more often than not, jaemin would just cry.

camp isn’t any better from then on; he didn’t find joy in anything anymore. when he wasn’t at the ocean, he spent most of his time in his cabin, crying and reminiscing fond memories he experienced with you. his friends checked up on him every once in a while, but nothing seemed to mend the brokenness of his heart.

he’d heard talk around camp of ongoing sea complications in korea, especially back home in busan. everyone had been confused as to why it happened so suddenly, but jaemin knew. he knew that he was the one causing the sea levels to rise, and in turn, making water travel farther up the city beaches. jaemin couldn’t bring himself to care, though, because he had lost the one thing he cared about most.

jaemin couldn’t bring himself to care because he had lost you.

[sserpente]

As a deposit | Part (2/2)

Synopsis: “Come now, don’t be like that. There must be something else I can appease you with. How about an alternative? A deposit? Be a guest in my house. You’ll get your own room, your own bed and as much beer and ale as you like. Beef, chicken, pork… I can get you everything. You must have appetites like any other man.” Geralt remained silent, making your father clench his fists. “What about a woman?”

With a start, he looked up. You frowned. He would never invite a whore to his home, now would he? He cared too much about his reputation. But to your utter shock and surprise, he suddenly glanced at you. “My daughter is still untouched.”

A/N: At long last, here’s Part II. Thank you all so much for your lovely feedback on this story! Enjoy!

Read Part I here!

Words: 2531 Warnings: injury, mentions of prostitution, bad parenting

Focusing on your daily chores, it had never been this hard before. You were distracted, at unease. This morning, before dawn, Geralt of Rivia had left for the mines. The Gods knew when he would return and what stories he would have to tell.

The beast your father had described to the village was savage, vicious and cruel. Its people were in dire need for help, this wasn’t just about you. If Geralt…

There he was again, sneaking into your thoughts, consuming your mind. What if something had happened to him? You gasped, realising with a start what it was you were feeling. It was worry. You were worried for him.

It wasn’t just your moral compass spinning wildly, knowing you had practically begged him to help you… if he died now, it would be your fault. He might have been a stranger and yet… you cared. Last night, when he had put his arms around you, making you feel so safe and secure… your heart had never felt so warm and at peace.

The sun was setting already. What if something had happened to him? You kept repeating the question over and over. What if the monster… or whatever it was Geralt claimed, had killed him too?

Your father seemed not concerned at all. He knew he had put the Witcher’s life at stake by hiring him for his mines but if he was ready to sell his former wife’s daughter to the local brothel, how would he possibly care for a stranger with a sword?

You flinched when somebody knocked on the door—loud and empathically, as if their life depended on it. It was late. Who could want something from your father… or you or your sister, for that matter, at this hour? Your sister had already gone to bed, as had your father. You were still in the kitchen, cleaning the cutlery and plates from supper, the Witcher still on your mind.

“Father… did you hear that?”

“Ignore it.” His voice came from the nearest bedroom, his door open just a smidge.

“What?”

“Some beggars, probably. Ignore them. I don’t have any money to spare, not right now.”

Beggars? Beggars were quiet, devoted. They did not bang on people’s doors as if they meant to initiate the exorcism of a house.

“What if they are burglars?”

Your father rolled his eyes in an annoyed manner. “Do burglars knock? No. Now shut up, extinguish the lights and let me sleep, useless wench.” He muttered under his breath already half asleep, earning him a mute sigh from you.

His harsh words for you had long ceased to sting. It was now, however, your growing fear made your stomach churn, cushioning his insult.

Pressing your lips together to a thin line, you risked a glance through the rough curtains outside—and gasped for air.

Geralt. He was limping, his expression distorted and full of anger and spite and pain. Blood poured from a wound just above his hips and through his fingers as he pressed his palm against it tightly. Repeatedly, he gathered bits of his remaining strength to bring his fist to the door.

Alarmed, you hurried to open him. He almost landed on the ground, struggling to keep his balance.

“What happened? Geralt…”

“Where’s your father?” He growled, teeth gritted. He hissed in pain when he stood up straight, his yellow eyes locking with yours in the most scrutinising manner.

“In bed, he… went to sleep not long ago. Geralt, you’re hurt.” The slight raise of his eyebrow was all you received in response—as if the blood dropping on the makeshift carpet and ruining it wasn’t obvious enough already. Swallowing thickly, you focused on his face, gently leading him to your bedroom instead.

Whatever it was he wanted to speak about with your father… whatever horrors he had experienced in that mine… you needed to tend to his injuries first.

“Let me… I’ll clean your wounds.” You offered sheepishly, your hands shaking when you had him sit down on the chair in the corner.

His yellow eyes never left yours when you reached for his sword to take it off him and put it in the corner of your room, hesitating for a moment to let him stop you if he so wished. He did not utter a word.

“I’m so sorry… this is all my fault.” You mumbled, your voice trembling.

Geralt gave you a puzzled look in response. It was much softer than his usual expressions you were already familiar with—always calculated and serious, letting no one in on his deepest thoughts and feelings.

“I… I mean I was the one who brought you here. Now you’re hurt.” You meant it—you felt terrible. You could have never forgiven yourself if the Witcher had died because of your fear of ending up a prostitute by the doings of your own father.

“I accepted your father’s offer. It wasn’t your fault. And I’ve had worse injuries, (Y/N).” Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke your name, making you swallow thickly.

“You should… would you like to take a bath?”

“That would be great, actually.” His voice, as deep as you remembered it, sent shivers up and down your spine. Nodding bravely, you stood, disappearing in the bathroom to prepare everything. It would take you a while to heat up enough water, in the meantime you could hear the Witcher following you almost entirely mutely and peeling off his clothes.

You refrained from peeking behind you, already knowing what to expect. A broad and muscly chest with countless scars, well-defined and that fascinating Witcher’s medallion around his neck. It would be immodest to look down any further and find out how well he was equipped down there.

Geralt waited patiently until the tub was ready—only when you had filled it up with hot and steaming water and provided him with a fresh towel did he move and climbed right into it, the water’s splashing noises as he drowned his body in it echoing through the otherwise quiet room.

“Let me properly disinfect your wounds. My father keeps expensive alcohol in the kitchen, it will—“

“No need,” he interrupted you gently but also firmly. “I heal quickly. The water will suffice.”

“Are you sure?”

Geralt nodded, relaxing in the tub. He leaned back so his long hair disgorging over the edge like a white river and closed his eyes, giving you the opportunity to admire his body. Even smeared with blood he looked breath-taking, like the heroes you read about in novels in the local library.

“At least let me wash the blood and dirt off of you, on your back.”

His initial response was a low grunt, barely audible to anyone standing a few feet away from him. “Thank you.”

“So…” you began timidly as you carefully ran a wash cloth you wetted in the tub over the mangled skin on his back, “what happened? In the mine?”

Geralt sighed. “Your father,” he spat the word with disdain in his voice, “is not as innocent as he claimed. He knew about the faun in the mine.”

“A faun?”

“Yes. A creature half human, half goat.” Geralt explained.

His skin was soft when you ran your digits over it to make sure you had not missed a spot. There were scars on his back too. You longed to trace them all with your fingertips. Did he… did he just shiver upon your light touch?

“He blew up the mine deliberately—not just for the coal to harvest. I was right—Mindor is not a monster.”

“Mindor? Is that his name? So why did he injure you?” You replied almost hysterically.

“I didn’t know what to expect when I entered the mine. He knew what I am.”

You frowned, pushing yourself along the outside of the tub to look him in the eye. “That is no excuse. He could have killed you!”

It was the first time Geralt smiled—barely visible, it spread on his lips, revealing the amusement you could not see sparkling in his yellow eyes.

“It takes a lot more to kill me.”

“What happens now? Will… will Mindor stay in the mine?”

“No,” he replied. “I convinced him to take shelter in the forest, in a cave still close enough to the village to benefit from its resources. The humans, especially your father, wouldn’t have stopped hunting him down like a beast.”

“Is he not?” You murmured quietly.

“No. He killed out of rage and self-defence. Your father’s men attacked him with pickaxes and swords.”

“He never told me that.”

Geralt snorted. “Of course not. They never do.”

Silence spread in the small bathroom, the water he was still lying in slowly cooling down. Lone drops meeting the surface were the only, reassuring sounds you were able to hear for a while. Only now did you give proper thought to why he had returned here of all places.

Your father wouldn’t let him in, assuming he was a beggar asking for food, money or shelter. Had you not been home, would he have nursed Geralt back to health? You sincerely doubted it. If the Witcher failed to do the task he had been paid for, he would have chased him away cruelly, if anything for not actually killing the creature. Now Geralt did not strike you as the type of person your father could simply chase away, yet you feared…

“Perhaps… perhaps you should still tell my father that you killed Mindor.” The Witcher frowned and turned to face you, his medallion shining in the dim candlelight.

“I don’t lie, (Y/N).” He stated seriously. “I only kill monsters. Mindor wasn’t one.”

“I… I know, I just… you don’t know my father like I know him.”

“How old are you?”

“I… (Y/A).”

“So you are of age.” He continued, followed by a thoughtful pause. “You could leave him.”

“As a woman, alone? I am not married, Geralt. Where would I go, all on my own?”

“Away from him,” he growled, heaving himself from the bathtub. You bit your lower lip when you caught sight of his well-defined backside, modestly handing him the towel.

You smiled weakly as he dried himself off, still kneeling at the edge of the bathtub. “I could come with you then. Travel the whole world and help you fight vampires and furies and werewolves…”

Geralt turned around, the soft towel now covering his lower half to not reveal anything. There it was again—that disarming smile you had the feeling not many people got to see on him.

“My life is dangerous, (Y/N).”

“More dangerous than my life here, with my father?” You responded. He sighed. “Honestly? Probably not.” Your father is an atrocity, he added silently. And humans are sometimes the scariest beasts you’ll encounter in this world. They are capable of terrible things they will gladly accuse creatures of to live with their choices. But he did not speak these thoughts out loud. You were terrified as is. 

Geralt spent another night in your bedroom, your petite form, compared to his anyway, cuddled up next to him to keep you warm. You were more careful this time, to not come in contact with the fresh wounds you had bandaged for him before going to sleep.

Today, he had claimed, they had almost healed completely already.

Needless to say, your father was shook when he found Geralt walking out of your bedroom the following morning.

“Geralt!” He exclaimed, failing miserably at hiding the nervousness in his voice. “You’re back! The mines… what happened?”

“The creature is gone.” He growled in response. “I expect my payment by dusk. That should be enough time to sort out your business.”

“Geralt… I thought we had an agreement, that’s so very soon. Have my daughter for another night, did she not satisfy you? I’ll get you your money tomorrow morning. The blacksmith has already ordered—“

“By dusk.” Geralt repeated darkly, shutting him up in an instant. “You can consider yourself lucky I didn’t tell Mindor where you live for him to take revenge on you himself because I care about your daughter.” He added under his breath, so quietly only he himself was able to hear it. Only when he turned his fully dressed form, including that intimidating sword on his back, to the door to greet Roach outside, your father spoke up again.

“Hey, how do I know the monster is really dead?”

Geralt didn’t turn around. He stopped dead in his tracks, barely moving his head to glare at him threateningly. “If you don’t believe me, go up to the mines and see for yourself.”

You were already outside, drying the towel Geralt had used last night and admiring his horse from afar.

“Your horse… is it a she?” You asked curiously when he approached, blushing as his yellow eyes were entirely fixed on you.

“Yes,” he said. “Roach.”

“Hello, Roach.” Smiling, you came closer and petted her nose, gently, to not startle her. Geralt observed you for a long moment—as if he’d forget what you looked like if he did not pay attention. His expression was, just like yesterday when you had offered him a bath and apologised for his wounds, so soft you pressed your lips together to a thin line to not take a step back, confused about how his demeanour shifted when he was with. The tenderness he had wrapped your body in his arms with… you blinked.

“I can’t take you with me right now, (Y/N).” He suddenly said calmly. “I can’t protect you.”

You should have expected this. After all, you had suggested it to him jokingly, last night. Still, the painful sting piercing your heart like a sharp dagger upon hearing his words felt painful, antagonising even. You sighed.

“I know… I know, Geralt.”

“Listen…” He began. Darkly and a little… insecure? No, ineptly. “I will be back. Not any time soon but I will. I will be back collecting my payment tonight, then leave town for good.” You nodded. This was not a promise, not directly and yet… butterflies spread in your stomach, stealing any rational thoughts from your mind.

Your eyes met—you were going to miss that bright and menacing yellow, bearing so many, countless secrets. Bravely, you stepped forward, stood on your toes and supported yourself by gently pressing your palms against his strong chest.

Your lips met his before he could utter a word, a feather light kiss serving not only as a thank you but also a promise of affection and even desire. Your eyes fluttered shut when he wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands buried in your neck to pull you closer. Geralt was the one to intensify the kiss, almost desperate for your touch as his tongue darted out to taste your lips.

When you broke apart, your breathing was heavy—so was his. He nodded slowly, one last time flashing you that rare and sincere smile before mounting his horse, your fingertips caressing your now swollen mouth. You did not return inside before he was out of sight.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥ Also I am really sorry if you asked to be tagged in Part II! I'm really flattered you all want to be the first people to read my stories as soon as I post them, I really am but I don't have taglists, never had any, never will... especially now with 17k+ followers, that be would be way too time-consuming. :( And I really just hate tagging! *giggles*

[karanuit]

VERONA ! 

synopsis. in which park seonghwa found himself in the modern reenactment of shakepeare’s romeo and juliet, just without the deaths.  

muses. park seonghwa and female reader.

genre. a larger ratio of fluff over angst.

trigger warning. smoking, degradation, mentions of toxic relationships and cheating.

type. bad boy and good girl. 

word count. 5,098 words.

mirae's note. i've never had my first kiss and that shows through this work so i apologize in advance if it looks greasy— also, please take note that i do not condone toxic relationships and if any of you ever experience troubles like that, i'm here for you hoomans.

more often than not, park seonghwa was known to be a modern day romeo montague. 

a young man with a lean build and a chiseled face that was said to have been erected by the hands of the gods themselves, women and men alike found themselves stumbling upon their feet with tied tongues and dazed visions. with a bouquet of intelligence and allure to offer, many found themselves wishing to take him home to introduce him to their parents as their boyfriend. 

but there is no such thing as the perfect creation, the youth being a prime example of this as he was known to have an untamed heart that strayed far too easily. many helpless people had been on the short end of this unfortunate curse, each one entering with the hope to claim that they were the one who held his heart yet were left in despair after a week or two. by then, they were already put aside for a new lover that only served as another notch on his belt. 

it certainly didn't help that he was not one to follow the rules, a firm believer in impulsive decisions that usually lead him to slipping out by a single hair. the school uniform that had been designed the portray the institution's virtues of honor, humility, temperance and chivalry was reformed in his hands by substituting the blazer for a leather jacket and leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone with the same action done for his tie. teachers and students alike would be surprised to find him inside the classroom but remain indifferent to the fact that he was dozing in the furthest desk of the room. 

a man of insatiable habits and a tarnished reputation that spelled nothing good, it wasn't surprising to catch him attending to his own devices by himself as no one ever wanted to approach him. only a few brave souls had ever tried to do the deed but they were the same individuals whose hearts had been shattered by him without a morsel of remorse from his side. it's better to stick to on the path that you know rather than straying to the murky grounds where bitter tears and aching regrets wait to pounce on its new victim, they all murmured to each other. 

but you were not one of them, not one to join in on badmouthing others or judge a person by the impression that they gave off through the experience of others. instead, you held barrels of empathy inside of you and did your best to understand and befriend each new person you met. you were an exquisite pearl within the multitude of grazed oysters that could not keep you contained for too long as they deemed your kind soul too much to handle. 

and it was by pure luck that you ended up washing upon his grounds. 

the ticking hand of the clock resonated through the building, the sound of footfalls following after it as students bolted out of their classrooms and filled the hallways with after school plans playing energetically on their minds. you were never one to join the bustling crowd, opting to let a few minutes pass by before you stepped out after a few parting words were exchanged with your lecturer. by then, there was more space for you to roam around as you headed home but not before making a stop at the vending machine that stood in the west wing of the campus. 

it was a rarity to find anyone else there, the myths that consisted of a ghost guarding the area was more than enough to scare the students from cruising across it. that was why you were taken aback when you noticed a lean figure leaning by the machine with a cigarette lightly grasped between two nimble fingers. as you drew closer with each step, you saw more than enough of the mysterious figure to take note that he was the notorious troublemaker of the university. 

you were unsure if he had noticed you but you weren't willing to test the theory out, not when his tense stature told you that he was preoccupied with something. with your mind easily made up, you selected your favourite snack from the machine and inserted the designated amount of money before one of the coins slipped out of your hands. you were quick to bend down but paused when you heard him say, “are you trying to seduce me?” 

the coin was slipped back in its rightful place as you examined his face, trying to figure out whether he was being serious or not. it was obvious that he was not one to divulge his emotions easily so you took a gamble with your reply and offered him a teasing smile. “depends, is it working?” 

this had earned a light chuckle from him but he didn't say anything further, leaving you to assume that their exchange of words was short lived. you waited for your snack to be dispensed, dipping once more to collect it before you indulged yourself by taking a bite. there was no need for you to rush so you allowed your taste buds to savor the flavour, all the while the smell of smoke seeped into your senses through small groups. 

“aren't you going to take pity on your lungs?” he took another nip from his cigarette and let the puffs fall from his lips easily, his brow slightly arched by your question. “you were probably lucky to escape health ed but that stick is a nudge towards death's hands.” 

he slowly nodded, taking numerous glances between you and the item before he asked with amusement laced in his voice. “well then princess, what do you suggest i do?” 

he wasn't sure what he was expecting but you taking the cigarette out of his fingers and crushing it under your shoe looked far from the spectrum of his expectations. when he looked at you with his lips parted slightly from shock, you merely shrugged and told him, “you asked so i gave you my suggestion.” 

you brushed off your hands, the traces of ash floating away before you took another nibble of your snack and patiently awaited his next move. his fingers twitched from the temptation to light another cigar but he paused and chose to brush it under the rug, catching himself by surprise. with his former distraction tucked away, he settled with the next best thing — getting to know you. 

he started off with introductions, asking for your name which you gave without pondering upon your decision. he had done the same, to which you had replied, “don't worry, i already know who you are.” 

his chuckle had made an appearance once more but this time, it was accompanied with a smirk as he remarked, “let me guess, the big bad wolf who'll gobble you up if you're not careful.” 

you wanted to deny it, wincing quietly at the way he had phrased it as you had heard much worse but you chose with the softer blow and settled for nodding instead. he looked composed but the small flicker of hurt gave it away, a tell tale sign that told you of his true feelings. though usually an empathetic person, you found yourself struggling to console him or even share an experience similar to his. despite your lack of knowledge in his presence, you still tried your best by telling him. “for the record, i don't believe what they say. i'm sure there's more to you that they're simply twisting for their amusement.” 

seonghwa was left bereft by your words, finally seeing first-hand how it felt for others when they found themselves in the same vicinity as him. before he could try and untangle his muddled mind to throw you a reply, you had already finished your snack and turned to leave the perimeter. “i'm sorry mars bar but i have to go before my roommate has an aneurysm over my late arrival.” 

you sent him a kind smile, one that sent an unfamiliar jolt in his heart and was the last thing he could grasp of you until their next potential meeting. his back pressed against the wall as he held a hand to his chest, trying to wrangle the quick palpitations of his heartbeat and muttered to himself, “what's happening to me?” 

another question had rested upon his lips, impatiently waiting to be drawn out of the abyss. had he truly given his heart up before or was it a mere infatuation that had spawned from one of cupid's wayward arrows? there was only one who held the answer but in order to find out, his courage had to be put to the test. 

  though interacting with him was never in your initial routine, you welcomed his presence as a new addition to fill the gaps of your usually uneventful afternoons. with each day that flew by, you always found yourself eager to slip out of the building and see the male whose lack of devotion to attending classes limited their meetings to only those moments by the vending machine. you had always tried to ask him why he could never be bothered to listen to the lectures yet all you would receive was a pat on the head and a small bite of your snack taken from your grasp. 

no one knew about the star-crossed friends, not that either of you were bothered to find out what others thought about their friendship but at the same time, you preferred to live without the prying eyes and wagging tongues. both of you liked that area as it was with its lack of crowds and veil of tranquility that engulfed the air among it. but nothing is able to stay peaceful for too long, the west wing and their friendship had fallen as a victim to this for someone had come seeking to disturb that balance. 

the day that turmoil came looking for attention, you were only strolling towards the area with a hum resonating from your lips and loose change clinking along to the melody of your footfalls from within your blazer pocket. as you approached the vicinity, you noticed the familiar figure but this time, his back was turned towards your and the upper muscles beneath his clothing looked to be strained, tense if you had to put a specific emotion upon it. with each step, you heard not only his voice but another whose pitch could rival the scraping of nails across a chalkboard. 

you could have almost gasped when you recognized the female's face but tried not to make your presence known to the pair who looked to be in a heated argument. it was too late as piercing eyes that flared with hatred pinpointed you in its levels with long manicured nails itching to sink into your skin mercilessly. hwang eunbyul, the headmaster's daughter who supposedly held the student body within her hands. no one ever wanted to approach her out of fear of her haughty and controlling personality. eunbyul's nose turned up, mockery dripping from her voice as she pointed to you and said, “it's because of her, isn't it?” 

seonghwa turned around, hoping not to see the person he wished wouldn't have to stand witness to such a scene as that but lady luck was not on his side. your ingenuous figure stood still, brows knitted in confusion as the unwanted presence continued, “really ddeonghwa, has your taste plummeted that low to the point that you'd go for someone as ugly as her?” 

eunbyul laughed loudly, the sound painfully grating at his ears and contrasted so drastically to the melodious tune that he had gotten used to hearing over the past few months. “it's obvious that she only butters up to everyone just so she can get into the guys' pants. no one even likes her as she's such a stick in the mud, always listening to the teacher and raising her hand during discussions as if it makes her look cool. you can do so much better-” 

“enough.” 

a pin could have dropped in that moment and it wouldn't be heard, enmeshed in the thick silence that smothered all three of you after the sound of the male's low voice resounded through your ears. his hands stood by his side, clutched tightly into fists with his breathing growing heavily as a force of anger pounded upon his lungs. he looked at eunbyul who looked to shrink the size of a lizard from the look on his face, finally viewing the consequences of her blabbering. fury spewed from his lips under the calm demeanor he wore as a disguise as he told her, “you have no right to talk about her like that when she's above you in so many ways. unlike you, she doesn't need to blackmail others to get them to do her work as she's smart enough to do it herself and at least se does her best to contribute in lessons rather than checking if her makeup is smudged every second. if i ever hear you utter another degrading comment about her, i'll see to it that your dear father is removed from his position. after all, i am the reason why he got that far in the rankings, aren't i?” 

the frightened female's mouth opened and shut, trying to let out a retort but she couldn't as she heard the threat lying in the undertones in his voice. rather than standing there for another minute, he turned on his heel and grasped onto your wrist while proceeding to walk away from the scene. you dared to take a glance back in eunbyul's direction, absorbing the flabbergasted and horrified expression on her face with a small twisted feeling of satisfaction. 

you were not sure as to where the two of you were heading until you stopped in front of the campus's entrance where a motorcycle stood by from across the street. with his eyes focused on the bike, you deemed it to be his but couldn't ponder upon it for too long as the warmth that emitted from his hand still rested upon your wrist. a small awkward laugh escaped from your lips before you spoke, “uh, mars bar . . . you can let go now.” 

your voice, that was all he ever needed to hear in order to calm down and let go of the anger that he held onto with a vice grip. he was brought back down to reality where he finally realized the position you were in, quickly letting go of your as he apologized profusely. you accepted it without hesitation and let another silence surround them, less tense than before but there was still the small knot of strains beneath it. 

“i'm guessing i just stood as witness to another ex-girlfriend's outburst?” your words were meant to come out as a pick to break the ice yet it had earned you a grimace and a vague reply of, “something along those lines.” 

his eyes glazed over, a tell-tale sign that he was pondering upon something that made your curious but you knew better than to pry. instead, you stood by with your arms crossed against your chest without a clue as to where you were meant to look. not that you wouldn't have minded having him as the primary focus of your peripheral view but the rising thrum of your heartstrings was more than enough to convince you to avert your gaze. 

“can i ask a favour?” your view fell upon him once more but this time, it was accompanied by an arch of your brow. “as long as it doesn't involve anything that may or will end up being an embarrassing event that i cannot erase for the rest of my life.” 

he couldn't prevent himself from giving off a slight grin at your response that was laced with sarcasm, a characteristic of yours that he had always liked but never found the moment to properly give out his opinion. he shook his head, waving off your faux worry with an assuring reply, “none of that, i just want you to meet me here tomorrow after school.” 

a thoughtful hum bobbed from your throat as you tapped your finger upon your chin, pretending to ponder upon his request. “what's in it for me?”  

you weren't serious about him offering something in return but he had already laid out his card. “the truth about me.” 

that left you in a muddle, torn between two choices that rivalled each other in the temptation they held up on offer. shall you quench your curiosity by going into the deep or shall you play it safe and stick to the shallow end? 

time seemed to go slower for you the very next day, as if taunting you with its sluggish ticks past each minute until it had formed an hour. your feet tapped against the floor restlessly, the sounds that resonated from your jitters were muted upon the entrance to your ears. fortunately, lady luck seemed to be on your side as the lecturer had called the lesson to a close for a faculty meeting which allowed his students to leave if they wished. 

without another second of hesitation, you slung the strap of your bag upon your shoulder and headed out of the hall with the aura of impatience exuding from your rushed figure. seeing as how the day had yet to come to a close for the majority of classes on the campus, you found no difficulty in speeding to the entrance where seonghwa had sat upon his motorbike idly and his visor raised to give bystanders a glance at his mocha tinted irises. 

though his helmet had obscured the majority of his face, you knew that beneath the gear was a smirk that played upon his lips at the sight of your hunched body that braced itself against the wall as you did your best to regain the breaths that you had lost along the way. you held up a finger and spoke through small pants, “don't.even.think.about.it.” 

he removed his helmet and placed it upon the handle, raising his hands in defense as he retorted. “i haven't even said anything yet, you wound me too much.” 

you let out something akin to a wheeze before your body straightened up once more with your lungs full of its supply. your head tilted slightly as you took in the view before the question tumbled out, “so why am i here again?” 

“you'll see.” his wink, such a trigger for the butterflies in your stomach that pounded upon its cage to beg for their release, you could have almost cursed at him for being so attractive without even intending to. unless it was on purpose, you would never know as he'd never tell. he remained oblivious to your inner battle, his body occupied by turning to the case that sat at the back of his bike and opened it to reveal another helmet inside it. 

he didn't have to say anything as you could already tell what was on his mind, your answer already thrown out before he could speak. “no, i don't think so.” 

his lips formed a playful frown with the glint so obvious in his eyes, you knew that he was determined to get you on the vehicle, no matter what. 

“come on, you promised you'd do the favor for me ~” he lightly prodded at you, his insistence slowly breaking down your refusal though you still tried to hold yourself out. to your surprise, he clasped his hands together and stuck out his bottom lip while repeatedly pleading with you. the sight was too much for you to handle, you couldn't help but to give in with an exasperated, “alright!” 

he raised his fist and pumped the air, looking proud of his win while you begrudgingly strapped the helmet on. just as you were about to hop onto his bike, he took a hold of your wrist and observed your figure with a look that resembled one of a mother inspecting her child's outfit. his lips pursed together as he asked, “are there safety shorts beneath that?” 

the question had caught you off guard, your mind doing the retorts for you before your heart could catch up. “why do you need to know?” 

he shook his head, fully undeterred by your defensive state and replied, “because i'd rather not allow people to see a flash of your underwear.” 

you had no idea where your heart was but the warmth that rose to your cheeks had obviously been inserted by it. in a small attempt to sway him from the blood that was rising to your face, you quickly straddled the seat behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, muttering for him to go already before you changed your mind. no words were exchanged after that, only a chuckle as he turned on the ignition and drove the two of them across the streets where walkers let them pass by without a second glance and boutiques that displayed pretty items behind transparent glass panes. 

the aromatic scent of cinnamon, vanilla and lemon permeated their trail, tempting you to lean your head upon his back until the smell overwhelmed you too much to the point where you couldn't resist temptation. though difficulties were presented from the safety helmet, you leaned your head on his shoulder with your eyes stuck upon the surroundings that they had passed by. with your body relaxed and feelings immersed in the ride, you hadn't noticed that they had arrived at a park until his voice broke your reverie. “i understand that you like hugging me but we have to walk to our destination from here.” 

your arms were quick to slip out of the lock they once held across his body, losing the warmth that once engulfed them before your clumsy fingers removed the helmet and returned it to its rightful spot. he had done the same, his feet planted on the ground beside yours before he held out his hand and teased you, “after you, m'lady.” 

you snorted at his act but didn't brush his hand away, opting to place yours upon his which he held onto as the two of you walked along the stone pathway with only one of them aware of their surroundings. the other was left with no other option but to trust the male and hope that he wasn't playing with you. it became obvious that he wasn't as a park dawned upon their view with no other presence lingering in the vicinity. 

he utilized long strides to approach the swings and let go of your hand to gently wipe at the seats with the sleeve of his jacket. he sat on one of them and gestured for you to occupy the other spot, lightly swinging his legs up as he thought aloud, “this is the place where i met her.” 

you froze in your spot, barely finished in adjusting your position before the words rang clearly upon your ears. he glanced at you with a bittersweet smile on his face, a pang of sorrow tossed at your chest. he took a deep breath before he continued with his story telling, “they say that the first love is the one that will change you and they were right, but it wasn't a change for the better.” 

you couldn't understand why at that moment but you held your breath, as if fear had crawled upon you from the context of his words. another glance was cast at your before you gestured for him to continue if he wished with a small wave of your hand. 

“i had grown up being friends with eunbyul after she opted to join me on these swings rather than joining the other kids at the sandbox. everything was alright until middle school where i found my feelings growing more than platonic towards her, something she reciprocated too. i can still remember how much my heart was thumping and my sweaty hands that gripped onto my sleeves as i confessed to her and was accepted. from then on, i thought this was our step towards our happily ever after.” 

he chuckled but there was no happiness in it, only bile that choked up in his throat as the memories panned across his eyes. “i was too naive to realize that she only wanted me for my father's wealth and when we were of legal age, she kept persisting that we . . .”  

he gulped for some air, eyes cast downwards. “. . . that we take it to the next level but i told her i wasn't ready as i wanted to do it after marriage. my answer never changed, it only ended up triggering her even more until she broke and slept with someone behind my back.” 

you raised your hands to your mouth that dropped open in shock, eyes widening alongside your lost jaw but he hadn't noticed yet. “the saddest part was that i never knew of it until this male knocked on my door with evidence that his claims were true. but even with it, she continued to deny it and even called me an idiot for believing a stranger.” 

he trailed off, his fingers interlinked with each other as his lips stood in a straight line and his eyes found interest in the ground. his shoes kicked at the dust beneath them, the minuscule specks tying themselves to each other and formed a burst of shapes that twirled around his legs in a dance of their own. there was a line of silence formed between them, neither daring to cross it until his voice broke the border. “we parted on that day in anger with new baggage, me with the fear that everyone would hurt me so that's why i ended things quickly with past lovers and her with no scars to carry and a new life to live with the man she had the affair with.” 

you clutched at the chain of the swings, unsure of what to even say in such a situation like that. in that scene, you didn't see him as a man with arrogance carried upon his shoulders or a heartbreaker that used others' hearts for his amusement. instead, there was a boy who was torn to the last thread by an action made by someone he loved and made him feel loved. 

“you don't have to pity me.” you looked at him with slightly wide eyes, surprised by his near accurate reading of your thoughts. he laughed, the tune easing the knots between his brows and damp ache that floated in the air. you opened your mouth, words of silence coming out to play before you stuttered, “w-who said anything about pity?” 

“your eyes tell me that, they are the windows to your soul.” 

you frowned, pushing his hand away and feigned annoyance as you let out a huff and crossed your arms over your chest. rather than falling for your trick, he merely cooed and squished your cheeks with a soft touch that sent a tinge trickling down your bones. 

you tried to swat his hand away but failed to do so as he retracted his hand so quickly, you weren't sure if it was even at human speed. he inhaled a deep breath and exhaled, expelling the fresh air that filled his lungs which screamed in relief for the lack of smoke. he clapped his hands together and said, “besides, it's the past and i'd rather focus on the present where i hopefully have someone waiting for me.” 

now that pricked your ears, the palpitations of your heart possibly overtaking the time record of the quickest man alive. he had someone in his heart? who was the lucky person? would they be able to treat him the way he deserves to be treated? the last thought left a bitter taste on your tongue but you tried your best to play it cool, no matter how much your heart was throbbing painfully at the possible answer. 

“oh? who is it?” you asked, the tone of nonchalance tucking the sadness that you held so within the deepest depths of your soul. with your mind out of focus, you hadn't noticed him inching closer until his thigh had pressed against yours. you were quick to snap back into reality, watching with a hitch of your breath as he carefully rested his hand upon your cheek and leaned in close with his eyes flickering towards your lips. 

there were only a few inches of space between them until it became two, then one and ended up reaching an inch. his eyes were shut, the nerves getting the better of him as he chose to not look until his plump lips had met skin rather than its original destination. he opened them once more and leaned back, hurt blinding his vision as he deemed it to be a rejection until you moved your hand away and told him, “i understand what you're trying to show me but i can't answer you yet as you still have mistakes to make up for. i know that you've been hurt but that doesn't mean you can break the hearts of others. once you fix the damage you've inflicted, maybe i'll give you a chance then.” 

there was no anger in his eyes, only understanding over what you had told him with a small wince slipping out as he recalled his actions. he bashfully raised his hand to scratch at the nape of his neck, nodding slowly as he replied, “alright, i'm going to do my best so i can win your heart.” 

the look of determination on his face was so adorable to you, you couldn't help but to give him a kiss on the cheek. that seemed to be a bad idea as his body sat still, his action reloading in his mind over and over again like a record. a cheeky smile rested on his lips while he teasingly asked, “am i allowed to get another one?” 

you gave him a light smack on the shoulder, torrents of laughter tumbling from you before he joined in, feeling nothing but joy in that moment. he may not have been a real life depiction of romeo montague but he was park seonghwa, with his unfortunate woes and euphoric moments, and that was enough for you. 

[exhausted-joy]

INTO THE WOODS [YANDERE!JIMIN] [03]

CHAPTER THREE.

SYNOPSIS: Park Jimin is your needy, clingy, summer camp cabinmate that both creeps you out and makes you regret ever trying to be socially engaged during your summer break. After submitting truckloads of request forms to switch cabins and getting rejected, you realize that you must swallow your pride and get comfy with your new cabinmate. He hates it and so do you—at least, that’s what you thought. 

NOTE: This fic is now being co-written with the lovely @/Luciole on Quotev! Please show her some support, she is amazing. (-:

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It’s amazing to think that you can memorize a tree based on the unique pattern of its bark just by seeing it a few times. 

“Jimin, haven’t we seen this tree before? I swear we have.” 

The boy glances up at you with an almost deadpan look, and lets out an inaudible exasperated sigh. His usual lack of response only unnerves you further, and although you would normally just accept that he was capable of nothing but one-syllable comments, while wandering around cluelessly in an extremely dense forest in the sweltering summer heat, his communicative malfunctions made you want to shake him until he’d spew out a proper, or at least mildly helpful reply.

Opting for another intense stare at the map, you exhale forcefully in a half-groan, half-sigh, your arms and the map along with them shaking as you did so. After trying and failing to convince yourself that there must be some correct information of any kind on the crumpled piece of paper, notably for the fiftieth time in an hour, you were about as helpless as the time you wrote your first chemistry test.

Jimin, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered, if not even disinterested. If you were being honest, you were growing tired of taking the initiative on everything. Maybe if Jimin had spoken up, none of this would have happened. It was your first time at this camp and your roommate’s been coming here since presumably his younger days, so you expected him to know these trails like the back of his hand. However, you weren’t going voice your bitter thoughts just yet; you didn’t really know Jimin like that and you definitely weren’t down to getting shanked in the middle of nowhere. 

Folding the useless map up, you shove it into your back pocket and cross your arms. Maybe you just needed to retrace your steps. How far away could the camp possibly be? It’s not like you were wandering for miles and miles - at least, that’s what it felt like. Turning around to face the direction which you came from, you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows as you glance past Jimin’s unkempt head of black hair. The gears in your brain turn and grip onto each other so forcefully you could swear you are feeling the blood rush to your head and past your cheekbones, making your face a flushed mess. But you can’t help it, no matter how hard you try, what angle you look at it from and what little definite impressions of your trek this far you call to mind, the green behind you still appears the same as the one in front of you, and your heart beats a bit quicker as a slight uproar of panic tightens your chest.

“This is hopeless,” you mutter, screwing your eyes shut and sinking into a crouch. You let your fingers comb through your hair nervously.

You raise your head and shoot your supposed treasure hunt partner an evenly hopeful and defeated look. “You’ve been to this camp before, right Jimin?”

His heart threatens to pound through his ribcage the way your eyes search his. He puts a little more effort than usual into maintaining his stoic impression and only musters you as if not quite sure just what you want from him. Keeping his intense gaze locked on yours, he soaks his lips and furrows his eyebrows before shrugging nonchalantly.

“...Every summer, yeah.” 

A small flicker of hope ignites in your chest and you quickly rise back up to a standing position. With a newly revived gleam in your eyes, you beam at Jimin, the thought of getting away from the miles upon miles of trees that surround you taking you to a happy place. 

“So that must mean you know this place pretty well then, huh? Do you know where we are?” Your question doesn’t exactly catch Jimin off guard, per say, but it somehow makes him feel hesitant to answer. Of course, he knew the woods like they were the back of his hand. Where else could he have run off to when the bullying got particularly nasty? The forest is his refuge, his own little safety blanket - it was a part of him. But for some reason, he feels that if he leads you out of the labyrinth of trees and back to camp, his time with you will be cut short and things will go back to you only talking to him because you have to. He didn’t like the idea of that at all, and he hates the painful twinge of his heart when you aren’t paying attention to only him. 

How could Jimin pass this opportunity up? Simple; he can’t. And he doesn’t. 

“I don’t know.” He replies after a few moments of silence and strongly resisting the urge to smirk at his scheme. 

And just like that you are sent back into the dark spiral of unknowingness. You consciously breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth as calmly as possible with closed eyes, yet you wind up sucking in as much air as your lungs can hold in a shaky gasp just to cough it out half a second later as if it was laced with acid.

Watching your unsuccessful attempts at calming yourself down, Jimin feels his heart drop. Of course, he wanted to stay with you for as long as possible, but seeing you in a state like this was worse than not having the chance to spend possibly the day with you… 

But what if there was a middle way? Could he spend time with you while also somehow leading the way back to camp? It sounded stupid, even in his head - how could he possibly pull off a stunt like that? Something had to go wrong, something had to happen and he just had to jump in and save the day. Glancing at your trembling form, he bites his lip and shuffles his foot in the sticks and leaves that blanket the forest floor. 

And suddenly, there was an arm around your shoulder and a warm form wrapped around your own. You jump at the sudden contact, quickly zipping your lips closed before an embarrassing squeak could escape. Jimin’s hands awkwardly pat your back while your face is squished against his chest. While the gentle embrace does distract you from your previous trauma, it instead replaces it with utter confusion and shock. 

Was Jimin actually trying to comfort you right now? It was bad enough that you were lost in the woods with him, and now you have somehow broken him? 

Clueless as to how to handle the situation you simply stand there, welcoming Jimin’s awkward back-patting and admittedly nice warmth as a useful way of slowly calming yourself down. Your previously tensed muscles relax allowing you to just concentrate on the slight shifting of your head every time his chest inflates with breath.

Ten seconds and two awkward pats later he slowly peels away to step back a small pace and look at you.You feel slightly chilly at the missing feeling of warmth.

“They’ll probably notice we’re missing...”

The ‘probably’ drives a pang of insecurity through your heart, but you wipe it away quickly. You had already allowed yourself enough drama today.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You straighten your spine. “We’d best stay here, it’ll make it easier to find us if we keep to one spot.” 

Jimin nods silently in agreement, his dark eyes scoping out the very green clearing. It was better than nothing; he’d have half a day sooner than none with you any time, little as it may be.

Meanwhile you shift uncomfortably on the spot. Lord knows how long you have to wait for someone from camp to notice two of so many participants missing.

Deciding to lean against the nearest tree, you carefully muster Jimin out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to be too obvious or creepy. He doesn’t seem panicked at all, his face almost automatically re-assumes his usual passive expression.

You decide you’d just have to pass the time, so you slide down the tree trunk to a sit. Jimin hesitantly follows your example, seating himself across from you, and once again the most awkward of silences settles. Not that you’re not used to it by now.

The summer heat is still sweltering, so you opt to fan yourself with your hands while you ponder on starting a scientific research on how it was possible for someone to survive these cooking temperatures dressed in several layers of black clothing, and even though you are dying of fluid-loss by sweat in the shadow of your tree Jimin barely seems affected in all his hooded glory.

You stare at him, sitting barely three feet across. He stares back at you. You both look away. No one says a word.

Maybe you should scratch your last will into the trunk of a tree in case you have too much time on your hands. You heave out a sigh, and the wind almost seems to mimic you when a light breeze ruffles the trees.

“I guess we’ll have to uhm- pass the time somehow”, he pokes aimlessly at a pile of leaves with a stick. “You know, until they find us…”

After stuttering out the words, Jimin has to strongly resist the urge to pat himself on the shoulder. He’d actually talked to you- by himself not to mention.

His voice is barely audible and some of the words got stuck in his throat, yet you have to keep your eyes from widening to the size of saucers. The most antisocial person you’d ever known just tried, even if poorly, to start a conversation with you, and considering you were literally deep into the woods you weren’t one to miss a chance at possible human interaction.

“Yeah,” you follow his example and look around the forest floor for a stick, “So uh, for how long have you been coming to this camp exactly…?”

Jimin runs a hand through his messy black hair. He doesn’t answer right away, though he listens intently to every word.

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It would be safe to say that your plan failed pretty epicly.

It’s currently just past dusk, and still no sign of anyone beside you and Jimin.

Speaking of whom, to your great surprise he’d actually managed to start a small campfire inside a ring of stones he found somewhere off between the trees. When asking him where he’d learned it, he only scrutinized you for a moment before solemnly answering “Camp.”.

You still sit across from him, only there’s a fire between you now.

Jimin speaks up. “...You should sleep.” You shoot him a quizzical look but his face stays passive as always.

“Yeah…” you mutter tiredly. “But what about you?”

He looks up at you in almost puzzled admiration. Not only had you just considered his existence, but you genuinely seemed to care cared for his well being- and he decides he likes it.

“I don’t sleep much.”

In any other circumstance his monotone replies would strain your nerves to infinity and beyond, but at the moment you’re just too tired to care.

You bring your head down to rest on your folded hands and shift on the dry leaves, for what must be the twentieth time, before finding a mildly comfortable position without having any stick or root poke at your back and creating any more bruises than you already have from the less than enjoyable day you had gone through.

Yet, somehow, while laying in the middle of the fallen leaves and grass, with your back to the small pile of burning wood your not so antisocial cabin mate had somehow crafted, you couldn’t help but quietly sigh in what seemed like content. You feel a certain tiredness surge through you, numbing your limbs as well as your senses, like that after spending a long day playing outside and climbing trees as a child.

In any other given moment it would seem crazy to think about a day lost in the woods as enjoyable, but as the small fire spreads warmth across your back it is the last thought that shoots through your mind before you become too weak to keep your eyelids from fluttering shut.

Just when your mind is about to go blank and give itself away to the sweet promise of sleep, you feel a soft fabric being placed over your torso in a blanket-like fashion, enveloping you with its comforting scent reminiscent of home. All your muscles relax and your conscious tiredly shuts down as you slowly descend into the welcoming arms of slumber. 

Through your sleep hazy stupor, you hear Jimin rustling around a little bit away and, soon after, you think you can almost hear the familiar faint tapping of an electronic keyboard drifting through the comfortable silence. 

But this time, as you somewhat contentedly lay on your bed of itchy sticks and stones, you are strangely okay with it. 

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[aprettysonnetfic]

For Those Below, Ch 2

Kyle Brooks, unable to reach either Warren and Ben, has a bad feeling that something has happened to them. His search for answers reveals a witches plot to get revenge against The Grey Lords. Kyle and Mercy have to team up to rescue Ben, who has been taken as leverage while the rest of the pack is out of reach. Kyle's negotiation skills are severely tested.

Part 3 of Wild Heart

AU in the Mercy-verse.

Rated T

The decision is made to try and find Ben and hope the rest of the wolves were back in contact when they did. Mercy decides that since there's a witch involved, and because this is pack business, to call Elizaveta for help. Kyle tells her in no uncertain terms to not mention him and Mercy shoots him a questioning look but complies as she dials the number on her cellphone.

While Mercy is waiting for the old witch to pick up, Kyle steps out into the garage and decides to try Warren again to give him an update on the situation; if he can reach him. Unsurprisingly, Warren’s phone goes to voicemail, so Kyle gives a quick synopsis of the situation, tells him he loves him, and to PLEASE call him back.

He can see through the open office door that Mercy is still on the phone and doesn't want to interrupt. After a moment of indecision, he decides to try calling Ben’s phone, just in case a miracle happened and he answers, safe and unharmed. He is shocked after the fifth ring it is picked up and a sultry woman’s voice comes on the line.

“Hello, Kyle Brooks. Missing something?”

“Hello, to you, too,” he replies. He assumed this was the witch, Euphenia. If the logic followed, since she had Ben’s phone, she had to have Ben, too. Better to make sure.

“May I ask who you are because I was hoping a foul-mouthed British man would answer?”

"Oh, Ben won't be able to come to the phone for awhile. He's got a very smart mouth and a worse attitude. I'm surprised his Alpha hasn't put him down."

"Oh, he's got a very pretty mouth if you can ignore the attitude, and I'm rather I’m fond of it. He has his uses. Can we discuss his return?"

As a divorce lawyer, Kyle negotiated with emotional clients on a daily basis. He was good at what he did and had the reputation of being a shark. He wanted to be underestimated by his opponents; that was a key to his success. But lawyering was one thing and this was a hostage situation. He knew that he had to pull out every negotiation tactic he knew of to get Ben back alive. She didn't know he knew she wanted the Walking stick. She apparently didn't know that it was gone. He had the advantage and he wanted Ben. .

“You’re not Hauptman. The wolf belongs to him. Who are you to be concerned with the little wolf?" she asks, curiosity tinging her voice.

“I work with the pack. Hauptman isn't available, so I'm all you've got right now. I'll be honest, you're better off talking to me; he's not very good at negotiating. It's that dominant werewolf thing that makes him used to getting what he wants. Can we talk about both of us getting what we want?”

“I see. Perhaps. Do you have the Walking Stick?”

“You know I don’t. It belongs to Mercy Thompson. I'm pretty sure I can get it, though since I know where she keeps it. Why do you even want it anyway?”

"I owe the Grey Lords," she said simply. This, I could with this, Kyle thinks.

"You're not the only one. If I'd known that you wouldn't have had to take Ben in the first place; I'd have given it to you!"

"Why would you say that?" she says, her voice edging into suspicion.

"Let's just say that I've had dealings with the Fae in the past and haven't enjoyed the experience. They can't be trusted and have been a thorn in the pack's side since our first dealings with them. I can't really discuss details but, you understand my meaning, right?" Kyle says, hoping that the witch can't tell he's lying through his teeth. Negotiation 101: try to get your adversary on your side and make them believe you're on theirs. She laughs delightedly, and he knows she has taken the bait.

"Well, in that case, I think that we can work something out, my dear boy.

Mercy exits the office and she looks like she's going to say something, so Kyle cuts her off with a hand gesture. He points to the phone and mouths "witch" and Mercy's eyes nearly pop out of her head.

"That's great to hear. I'll be happy working with you but can you do me a favor first? Can I talk to Ben? I'd like to make sure he's in one piece."

“I told you he’s a little tied up right now, Kyle. You have my word he’s very much alive,” she replied lightly.

“Under some other circumstances, I might take you at your word. You understand why I can’t do that right now.”

“You're a very smart man, Kyle Brooks. Very well. I will make this one exception as a show of good faith,” she says with a considering voice. “Speak, wolf.”

He can hear shuffling in the background and a sharp cry of pain. Ben’s voice comes across the line, and Kyle nearly cries with relief.

"Ben? Thank god. I'm coming to get you..."

“Kyle? Kyle? It hurts Kyle. Please tell her to sto--,” and he’s cut off. The witch starts speaking again as if nothing had happened. Kyle squashes down his fear for his friend so he can finish negotiations. He wants to vomit but he has to remain calm so he can rescue Ben. Then, he was going to kill this bitch.

“There. Your precious wolf is alive.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your letting me know he's alive. When I get the Walking Stick, and I will get it, where shall I meet you for the exchange?”

"No. I'll tell you where only when you have it. Be quick, though, I'm not sure your wolf is going to enjoy his time in my care. You'll be in touch. Toodles, Kyle."

The phone disconnects.

"Goddamnit!" Kyle screams and seriously considers throwing his phone, but he pockets it instead. "I swear I am going to make her pay for this. Somehow."

Mercy, who had been listening with concern from across the garage rushes over and envelops Kyle in a hug. He returns it gratefully and feels the pricking of tears.

"She's hurting him, Mercy. We've got to get him back. I will not let anyone hurt him anymore if I can help it. He's been through so much," Kyle babbles as he lets her support him. She makes soothing noises and after a moment, Kyle straightens up and scrubs his eyes. "I'll be ok, thank you."

"Anytime, Kyle. You did really well, I mean it. What did she say?"

"She wants the Walking Stick. She doesn't seem to know it's gone and I convinced her that I can get it. I'll have to call her back when I have it in my possession so we can meet for the exchange."

"Well, if she thinks you can get it, it will give us time to figure something out, and will hopefully make her think twice about damaging Ben any more than she has."

"So what did your witch have to say?" Kyle asks, referencing Mercy's call with Elizaveta.

"She's in Spokane dealing with another client and she expects to be done in a couple hours. We can expect her to be back in the area sometime after eleven, probably closer to midnight."

"The Witching Hour. Great. That's a little over five hours from now. We still haven't heard back from the pack, either."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"If Ben were here he could probably track the phone. Don't you guys have wolf that's on the force? Maybe he could do something like track his phone or look at surveillance footage? Anything is better than what we've got now."

"George? That's a good idea. Let me call him," she says and steps away. After a few minutes she returns with a shake of her head.

"He can't track the phone but he's going to check the camera footage and call us back. It might take awhile. While that happens, their trail is getting cold," she said referring to their initial plan for her to try tracking Ben in her Coyote form.

"Let's try that, Mercy. Waiting around is going to kill me and if we find her before she expects me to call, we might get the jump on her."

"Ok, let's do it. Let me go Change and we'll find Ben."

[seattleboundwritergrl]

And after four years in Seattle, Baby makes three…

July 5th will mark the 4th anniversary of our arrival in Seattle. I’m writing this in advance because I expect to be busy that day. I’m pregnant with our first child and due tomorrow. I suspect he’ll be a little late. In fact, he might even choose to be a week late and arrive on our Seattleversary. As much as I want him to come NOW (because I am anxious to meet him, pregnancy is pretty uncomfortable, and all of the major to-dos are done), that would be kind of perfect. It wasn’t until I was here, finally in the home of my heart, that I felt I could consider having a child. It was certainly something I longed for, just not something I felt was tangible for me.

I was thirty-three going on thirty-four when we left to Chicago area. I’d been married for almost four years to a partner that I could absolutely envision having a baby with—in fact I had envisioned it, the two of us with a little boy, so uncomfortably early in our relationship that it was one of those things I wrote in my journal and cringed at the thought of even my best friend reading. It was not something I’d ever discussed with my partner because it didn’t seem like it could ever happen. I’d put my career first, my writing, and it was not going as planned. I’d put out two books by the time we were married, but I was in no way earning a living off of them, or even the combination of books, freelance writing, and teaching writing. My main income was from bartending. I had the crappy in-case-of-near-death health insurance you get when you are self-employed. Neither of these things was conducive to pregnancy in my mind. Not to mention that other than having a great partner and great friends, I was deeply depressed. I’d gone from feeling somewhat content in Chicago in 2003 to merely tolerating it in 2006 to absolutely loathing it in 2012. I had not been a happy child there and would not want to raise a child there.

Right before we moved, two of my good friends had babies. As I held them, and especially as I looked at my partner with my friend’s brand-new son in his arms, my heart nearly burst with desire. Not that I told anyone. I wrote it in my journal, lamenting that it was probably too late. That I would just have to settle with finally getting out of Chicago and moving to my heart city. I didn’t know, after all, if Seattle would be different. If I would find work quickly. If I would still be struggling to cobble together income from different sources.

But Seattle was different. After six weeks, I got a job at a university, one I actually liked, even though it was full-time and meant a big shift for my writing. I also had great benefits, and as I recall, I used those to bring the idea of parenthood up to my partner. “Look,” I said, “I could have a baby and all the prenatal care and time in the hospital would be completely covered!” It was intimidating to have this discussion, to even admit that this was a thing I wanted—really, really wanted—even though I had never said much about it before. It was also intimidating to consider—the responsibility and especially the fact that as much as I wanted a kid, the cynical and damaged part of me had grave doubts about bringing one into the ugly, fucked-up world. Again, it was Seattle that changed my perspective. The beauty of this place that I used to regularly document and marvel at right here on this blog. It had been so healing for me, so transformative. It made me think that life could be good, that I could raise a child in a happy place instead of one that felt suffocating and wrong like the Chicago area had for me. Most important of all, my partner and I had taken a huge leap and done a Big, Scary, Seemingly Impossible Thing when we’d moved across the country. This made me feel like I could do anything.

We talked about it for over a year. I shed a lot of tears. I practically gave up when I saw that the cost of childcare was basically my take-home pay from the job that had made it all feel possible in the first place—the job I both wanted and knew I would have to keep. And then there was the fact that my partner had never seriously thought about this possibility, had always just assumed that it would be just the two of us and I would be as happy as he was with that. This was totally fair on his part since it had taken me years to confess this secret desire. We tried to set deadlines to make a decision. One loomed during our first visit to Mount Rainier and I have a horrible, tear-stained memory of the bumpy drive back down thinking that even though we’d just made one of our toughest climbs together, that we may never get past this hurdle. He seemed more on the verge of no than yes, and while I knew I had to honor that, I wondered—as did he—if I would ever feel whole in our previously near-perfect relationship again. I confessed a sappy secret: that I’d written the initials of the boy and girl names I’d liked in the sand next to a lake when I’d gone off alone. Though the conversation would go on for a few weeks longer, he would later tell me that for some reason that hit him hard. The idea of letting those initials go turned his pending ‘No’ into an ‘I’m still terrified, but okay, yes.’

There was another struggle to come, one that is too long to get into here and needs to be written in the proper time and place, but I’ll just summarize by saying that once we started trying, it took a year and a half to get pregnant. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I thought my depression was bad right before I left Chicago. This was worse. On par with (and also painfully interconnected to) how I’d felt in the aftermath of my sexually abusive relationship.

They say it happens at the perfect time, though, and it did. Also, somehow, despite month after month of thinking this and being disappointed, I really did know deep down that this was our month. We took a relaxing anniversary trip to the coast. I took the pregnancy test the day before my best friend, the girl of my heart, came to visit me in the city of my heart for the first time. I blurted, “Hi! I’m pregnant!” to her right as she stepped off the street car. It was a particularly joyous visit.

There are too many details about the pregnancy itself to get into here. I admittedly hated a lot of it—the sick, exhausted, painful parts—but I’ve been through a wide array of emotions that, again in the right time and place, I will document. (When one of your big personal hurdles to deciding to become a parent is “But the world is a pretty terrible place,” it is quite emotional to hear your baby’s heartbeat the day after instead of electing the first female president as you so deeply believed and hoped would happen, a racist, xenophobe who proudly committed sexual assault is put into office instead.) It’s been odd to me, the girl who has journaled everything since third grade, that I have barely documented this. I haven’t really blogged since before I got pregnant due to the aforementioned infertility-related depression, but I also haven’t recorded much in the beautiful pregnancy journal that I got for myself and I’ve gone days and weeks at a time without writing in the daily journal that I’ve kept for five years. A lot of this is due to exhaustion—working full-time while growing a human is intense!—but also because pregnancy is equal parts super slow and super  fast, or it has been for me anyway. I spent the first half waiting to feel better and also to reach X milestone that would make me feel more secure that this baby would be born okay (though as the daughter of a NICU nurse, I didn’t really feel okay until I hit 37 weeks). Then I spent the second half overwhelmed with all of the to-dos both baby related and not.

But here we are, the day before my due date, and a lot has been accomplished. Our house is as set-up as it can be (though not nearly as cleaned and purged as I was hoping). I’m as prepared as I can be for birth and a newborn (though not nearly as prepared as I would like to be as reading like writing went mostly by the wayside for me, so a lot of the books I intended to read are half or not at all read and I feel a bit like I’m about to take a test that I had no idea how to study for). And though I didn’t journal or blog, I did write. Once I hit my second trimester, I devoted 30 minutes each morning before work to chipping away at my novel—a very dark YA about rape culture, girl power and witchcraft set in the woods of Washington—and I came away with a 100 page partial and synopsis that I am very proud of and hope will sell while I’m on maternity leave. I trained my temp at work last week and just yesterday I finally finished knitting a big baby blanket and made my labor playlist which had been vexing me. Today, the first wave of visiting family arrives.

So I’m ready, though perhaps baby is giving me some time to reflect before he comes, which is nice of him. And maybe he will time his debut to match our Seattleversary in some way, whether arriving on that day or coming home the day we came home.

Because almost four years in, there is no doubt that Seattle is home. People asked, of course, as soon as we announced the pregnancy if we were moving “home” to be closer to family. Since I have such tough feelings about Chicago (not to do at all with family!), it took everything not to hiss and spit that I am home. I know it will be hard to do this without family around and I selfishly hope that my parents might retire out this way to be close to their grandchild. They also both understand that it was only possible for me to be strong and happy enough to do this, to have a child, in Seattle. My mom, the NICU nurse, has marveled at the medical care and options I’ve had out here even compared to her top-ranked Chicago hospital, like for example, the doula program at my hospital. Child care is going to be expensive, and like basically everyone who doesn’t work in tech, we are very worried about the steeply increasingly cost of living in Seattle. I’m not sure we’ll be able to afford to buy a house (though part of this is a Chicago problem—my inability to sell the house I have there before the market skyrocketed here). But I know we’ll make it work. The journey to get to Seattle, and to get to our family of three, has made me and my relationship with my partner stronger than ever before.

I look forward to year five in Seattle, our first year as a threesome. I hope to get back out into nature and to find a way either on here or elsewhere to do more reflecting on our life.